


The Call of the Wild

by whitewolfandthefox



Series: The Call of the Wild [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Battle, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, Major Character Injury, Major Injury, Pining, Shapeshifter, Swearing, Torture, Wolf!Geralt, and that it has a happy ending, crude language, dark themes, descriptions of blood and injuries, fox!reader, honeybadger!jaskier, i swear it gets soft, i'll add more as they come up, lion!ciri, magical curses, raven!yennefer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 79,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22849288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitewolfandthefox/pseuds/whitewolfandthefox
Summary: Geralt x fem!reader shapeshifter AU. Some magic users have the ability to shapeshift, though they are a rare kind. Geralt is injured while in his animal form, separated from his pack. He is limping through the forest when he comes across the distinct scent of his kind and follows it back to Y/N, who is unaware of shapeshifters, as they are a closely guarded secret. She sees Geralt in his animal form, and though she is afraid, she helps him and takes him back to her home to heal his wounds. Their journey starts from there as they discover hidden powers and lurking terrors, intent on gaining access to the secrets of the shapeshifters.Credit to @riviawitch3r on tumblr for the idea: “Someone pls write me an au where magic ppl can become animals. Geralt is a white wolf obvi, Ciri is clearly a lion, Yen is prolly like a birb (golden eagle or maybe raven?) or maybe, like a black fox idk I’m less sure abt her but I just really need this au.”Chapters will be posted on Saturdays.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, jaskier x friend!reader, jaskier x geralt platonic, jaskier x yennefer platonic, yennefer x friend!reader, yennefer x geralt platonic
Series: The Call of the Wild [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708774
Comments: 84
Kudos: 310





	1. The Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Please be kind! This is my very first fanfiction. The story does not follow canon, although some events that happened in the show may appear or have some effects on the plotline here. Some of my characters are slightly OOC, but that's explained in parts of the plotline.

Humming to yourself, you bent down to pick the herbs you needed to make your potion. Standing up, you put the small petals in your basket before turning to look for the next plant you needed. It was then that you saw the animal standing on the other side of the clearing. You froze in fear, staring at the giant white wolf that suddenly appeared as if out of thin air, as it looked back at you with golden eyes. _Do I run? It hasn’t moved yet_.

Carefully, you set down your basket and gathered your skirts, preparing to dash for a tree, anywhere to get away from the wolf. Before you could move, the wolf groaned and stiffly lay down. As it did, you caught a glimpse of its side, coated in a dark red. The wolf put its head between its paws and groaned again. You took half a step forward, before catching yourself, unsure of the beast’s intentions.

Torn, you glanced towards your basket of herbs and then back to the wolf. When it made no other move, you slowly stepped over to pick it up, watching the still animal the whole time. When the wolf made no movement, other than its eyes following you the few steps across the clearing, you made your decision. Carefully approaching the wolf, you crooned in a low, soft voice. “I just want to take a look at your side. Will you allow me to do that? I mean you no harm.”

The wolf raised its head slightly to look at you, slowly blinking its golden eyes. You froze, waiting to see what it would do next. You swore you saw the wolf nod before it set its head back down between its paws, shifting so that it lay on its other side, releasing another pained whine.

Shaking yourself out of the stupor that had fallen over you, you moved quickly to the wolf’s side, sinking to your knees next to it. The wolf was even larger up close. As you examined its side, a sinking feeling appeared in your stomach. The wolf had been clawed, four long slashes running from its shoulder down its side almost to its back legs. The feeling of despair worsened, the cuts were very deep and still weeping blood freely. You scrambled for your basket of supplies, reaching for the coagulant potion you had made the other day.

“This will hurt,” you warned the wolf, before pouring the potion over its side. The wolf stiffened and turned its head to snap half heartedly at your hand. You snatched your fingers back to your chest, cradling your hand and glaring at the wolf. You shook your finger at the wolf in exasperation.

“You are the one who came to me,” you scolded, “behave.”

_Why am I talking to the wolf as if it could understand me? In fact, why am I even helping it? It is definitely not a normal wolf, it is much too big._

The wolf huffed, before looking off into the woods. Glancing into your basket again, you pulled another potion out and looked hesitantly at the wolf. “Can you drink this? It will help with the pain.”

The white beast lifted its head, nudging your hand with its snout. Taking that as a gesture of affirmation, you uncorked the bottle and tipped a few drops into the wolf’s maw. After waiting a few minutes for the potion to take effect, you pulled out a cloth and a flask of water and began to clean the edges of the wound. Once finished with your task, you rummaged in your basket for a needle and thread to stitch the wounds with.

As the needle entered the wolf’s side, it threw its head back, its muzzle formed into a silent snarl. You paused, running your hand through its fur, trying to soothe the beast. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “but it must be done. I have to suture your wounds or they will not heal.”

Slowly, the wolf relaxed and you took this as your cue to continue stitching the slashes. You completed the stitches, and stopped, debating the best way to bandage the wolf’s body. As you did this, the animal tiredly lifted its head, as if wondering why you had paused. You glanced over and met it’s golden eyes, now having gone cloudy through a haze of exhaustion and pain. “I must wrap the stitches so they don’t get infected, but I’m not sure of the best way to do so,” you told the wolf.

With a sigh, the white figure on the ground heaved itself to a standing position, whining softly in the back of its throat at the motion. Frantically, you tried to support some of its weight, worried that the stitches would pull and your work would be for naught. As the wolf finished getting to its feet, and after you reassured yourself that none of the stitches had pulled out during the movement, you busied yourself with wrapping its chest and belly with the bandages from your basket. Once that was done, you collected your things and pulled yourself to your feet. Turning to look at the wolf that stood motionless beside you, you spoke to it. “Well, that is all I can do for you now. Come, you can sleep in front of my hearth tonight so that I may check your stitches tomorrow.”

Not waiting for a reply, you turned and set off on the deer trail that would take you back to your home. You lived a little ways out of town, in a small house with an enclosed yard where you grew your herbs and brewed your potions. Villagers often came out to see you, looking for an elixir or for healing, and you never turned anyone away. _I guess that would be why I helped the wolf, I can’t bear to see anyone or anything in pain. I shall just have to hope it does not get hungry through the night_.

Glancing down at the creature that walked by your side, it was even more apparent that this was no ordinary wolf. Its head stood almost to your rib cage, quite tall for that species, even though you were shorter than many women. _No, I don’t sense any ill intentions from this animal, although I am still not sure what it is_. Unable to help yourself, you reached down and stroked the wolf’s head, marvelling at the softness of the white fur. It grumbled and looked up at you, as if in exasperation.

Reaching your yard, you opened the small gate, letting the wolf in in front of you and closing the gate as you walked through. Reaching into your basket, you pulled out the key to your door and let the two of you into the house. Placing your basket on the table, you turned to your hearth to start a fire, the night had begun to fall and the air to cool. After you had done this, you pulled the blanket off your couch and laid it on the stone in front of the fire. “Well then, you may sleep here tonight. Try to get some rest and I will check on you tomorrow morning.”

As the wolf settled onto the blanket with a groan, you glanced one last time at the bandages to check for blood. Seeing none, you walked down the hall to your bedroom to prepare for the night. After changing into your nightclothes, you flopped backwards onto your bed and crawled under the covers. As you slowly drifted off to sleep, your mind continued to wander back to the strange wolf with the golden eyes, and wondering what had happened to injure it so.

As you fell asleep, strange thoughts and sounds whirled through your head, all centered on the animal asleep in your house.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt limped through the forest, following the smell of herbs and magic. As he approached a small clearing, he could see a woman kneeling in the bushes, a basket filled with herbs by her side. He paused again smelling the air, having followed the distinctive scent of his kind to this area. As he lingered in the bushes, the woman across the clearing stood up, freezing in place when she turned and saw him. She set down her basket and gathered her skirts, her whole body tensing as if to run. _The smell, the source is from around here somewhere_. Groaning, Geralt lay down and placed his head between his front paws, hoping to show that he was not a threat.

The woman paused at this motion, taking half a step towards him before hesitating and glancing over at her basket, stepping towards it. Geralt remained motionless, following her only with his eyes. Seeming to gather her courage, the stranger picked up her basket before approaching him. “I just want to take a look at your side. Will you allow me to do that? I mean you no harm.” she crooned.

Geralt slowly lifted his head to glance over at her, slowly blinking, before nodding his head and putting his head back on the ground and rolling slightly onto his uninjured side, letting out a groan at the motion. Now that the woman was closer, Geralt realized that the scent was coming from her. Intrigued by this discovery, Geralt almost missed the woman warning him, “this will hurt” before pouring a liquid over his wounds. He stiffened as pain washed over him, beginning at his side. Turning his head, he gently snapped at her hand in warning. The woman snatched her hand back before shaking a finger at him, sternly telling him, “you are the one who came to me, behave.”

Geralt huffed in amusement, before turning his head to glance into the woods. It was getting dark, and he needed to find somewhere to shelter while his wounds healed. His attention was brought back to the stranger next to him as she rummaged in her basket and pulled out another vial before asking, “Can you drink this? It will help with the pain.”

Geralt nudged at the hand holding the vial in reply, allowing her to pour some of the potion into his maw. He placed his head back down on the ground, watching as the woman revealed a cloth and flask, leaning over him to clean the slashes that decorated his side. Once the blood was gone, she again reached into her basket before pulling out a needle and thread. As she poked at his skin to begin stitching the lips of the wound together, a flash of pain raced through his body, causing him to stiffen and throw his great head back, muzzle forming into a snarl as he desperately held back any noise.

“I’m sorry, but it must be done. I have to suture your wounds or they will not heal.” the woman whispered, as she ran her hand through the fur on his side. Geralt slowly relaxed as the stroking soothed him and helped clear the pain. Geralt tried his best to stay still, only flinching slightly as the needle pulled his skin. After a while, the poking stopped, and Geralt opened his eyes to see the woman staring at him with a roll of bandages in her hand. “I must wrap the stitches so they don’t get infected, but I’m not sure of the best way to do so,” Understanding what she wanted, he sighed before heaving himself to his feet, whining lowly in the back of his throat as the movement sent a burning through him. The woman frantically reached for his massive shoulders before fussing over the wound in his side.

Satisfied with what she saw, the woman began to wrap the bandages around his chest, Geralt standing patiently as she did so. Once done, the woman gathered her supplies and stood, glancing back down at Geralt standing next to her before speaking, “Well, that is all I can do for you now. Come, you can sleep in front of my hearth tonight so that I may check your stitches tomorrow.”

Surprised at the offer, Geralt hurried to catch up with her as the woman crossed the clearing, heading for a small trail hidden at the side of the clearing. As the two of them walked, the woman glanced down at Geralt before brushing her hand over her head. The motion was a surprise, but not unwelcome. Geralt grumbled at himself for enjoying and allowing the gesture.

After travelling for several minutes, a small house set in a stand of trees appeared. The woman walked over to the gate, opening it before allowing Geralt into the yard in front of her. As she closed the gate behind them, Geralt paused to take in the yard. It was small, but clearly well cared for. There were several patches of turned dirt, free of any weeds, as well as several hanging baskets and puts overflowing with various plants. Inhaling, Geralt could still make out that distinctive smell of the woman, although it was now masked by the scents of the plants in the yard, ones that he associated with healing.

Catching up to the woman as she unlocked her door, Geralt followed her inside and watched as she placed her basket on the table before kneeling in front of the hearth to start a fire. While she did so, Geralt took the opportunity to examine the house. It was small but looked like it was well lived in. Vials, empty and full, covered shelves and counters, interspersed with various herbs and tools. _She looks like a healer, but smells like a witch._

There was a door that led to a room that had a table and chairs, maybe a kitchen? There was a small hallway with several doors that branched off from the main room. The woman caught Geralt’s attention again as she pulled a blanket off of the small couch in the room and arranged it on the stones in front of the fire that was now roaring in the hearth. She stood up and looked at him, saying “Well then, you may sleep here tonight. Try to get some rest and I will check on you tomorrow morning.”

Geralt limped over to the blanket, groaning as he stiffly lay down, favouring his injured side. The woman leaned over him once more to check his bandages before disappearing down the hallway. Geralt could hear movement in another room before the house fell silent. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sounds of the woods outside the house before drifting off to sleep.

**~*~*~*~**

It was still dark outside when Geralt was woken by something. He remained motionless, trying to identify what sound had filtered through his dreams. Focusing inward, he searched for the well of power within himself, pausing once he found it before breaking through the barriers and allowing its power to surge through him. A wave of heat washed over him before Geralt found himself sitting amongst the blankets, returned to his human form. Glancing down at his bare chest, he saw that the stitches holding the four slashes running down his left side together had held throughout the night.

The sound that had woken him came again, a small cry that sounded from down the hallway in the direction the woman had gone. Getting to his feet, Geralt put one hand on the wall as the room spun around him. Cursing the arachas that had injured him earlier, he waited for the lightheadedness to pass before wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and making his way slowly down the hallway. As he got closer, the muffled sounds of sobbing and thrashing became clearer. Leaning against the wall, Geralt hobbled closer to the door that hid the mysterious woman. He knocked on the door, hoping the sound would disrupt whatever night terror held the girl in its grip.

When the cries only grew louder, Geralt opened the door and took a step inside, only to be hit by a magical aura. He looked towards the bed in the room, taking in Y/H/C locks spread across the pillow from tossing throughout the night. The sheets were tangled in her legs, skin pale, cheeks flushed, tear tracks staining her face. Geralt pushed against the magic, trying to break through to the woman’s side. As he fought, he could feel the stitches in his side ripping, warm blood starting to spill down his side. As he reached the bed, the woman’s eyes flew open with a scream and she scrambled up the bed to lean against the headboard.

Not wanting to frighten her anymore, Geralt froze in place. He could feel himself slowly weakening further as his wounds screamed at him in pain, but he didn’t dare move in case he broke the spell that had descended on the room. The woman curled in on herself, desperately trying to control her breathing but unable to. As she slowly grew paler, Geralt came to a decision and stepped forward in an attempt to calm her down.

**~*~*~*~**

Heart beating frantically, you cowered against the top of your bed, images from you dreams flashing through your mind. _A dark castle, filled with pain and death. A badger, backed snarling into a corner. A man’s face shrouded in darkness. A white wolf with glowing golden eyes snarling at a shadowy figure, an injured lion cub behind it, snapping at the hand that emerged from the shadows._

Gasping for breath, you hunched in on yourself, quickly growing lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. A movement from the corner of your eye had you spinning to see a white haired figure standing off to the side of your bed. As you focused on the man who was slowly inching towards your bed, you could feel your breath accelerating again. “Don’t, don’t come any closer.” you gasped out.

“I am not here to hurt you, little one. You helped me and I am here to help you.” the man said in a low voice. As he spoke, you felt a spark within, something calling out to this strange man in your room. A sense of familiarity wrapped around you, soothing you. The man was bare-chested, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He slowly stepped forward, his hands raised in front of him in the universal gesture of peace. You pushed yourself further backwards on the bed, trying to get away from the stranger in your bedroom before you noticed his eyes. Specifically, the colour of them, a shade of vibrant gold that brought forward the memories of the evening previously. “You are the wolf, from last night.” you managed to get out.

He nodded slowly, “I am,” he responded. “You need to breathe, little one, you are dangerously close to losing consciousness.”

As he spoke, you became aware of the feeling of lightheadedness, the blackness creeping into the edges of your vision. As you focused on trying to control your breathing, the man came closer, sitting on the edge of your bed and watching you with those piercing golden eyes. “Look at me,” he coaxed, “follow my breathing. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

You breathed deeply, trying to copy the rhythm that the man on your bed was setting. Slowly, you got your breathing under control and felt the dizziness fade away. “Thank you,” you breathed. Glancing up at him, you introduced yourself.

“Geralt” was all you got in return. Nodding to yourself, you slowly began to expand your senses out, taking stock of what had happened. Thinking back on your dreams, you shuddered, before pushing the memories away. As you slowly came back to yourself, you also became aware of the sharp scent of copper filling the room. Remembering the events of the night before, you reached for the man’s arm, ignoring the slight recoil that accompanied your actions. Tugging him so that you could see his left side, you gasped when you saw the bandages stained dark with red.

“You are bleeding,” you admonished, “let me see.” You stood from your bed and grabbed your dressing gown, putting your arms through the sleeves as you crossed to the other side of your mattress. As you got closer, you could see that the bandages were saturated and the blood was beginning to run down his side. You pulled him gently off the bed, sliding under his right arm when he stumbled and threatened to fall, taking most of his weight. Quickly, you led him to your work room, pushing the man onto the bed before rushing to the other side to grab your supplies.

You returned to Geralt, using a small dagger to slice the bandages off his torso, peeling them back and blanching at the sight. There were several places where the stitches had ripped out of the skin, and the whole area was puffy, weeping blood and pus. “What did this to you?” you demanded.

“An arachas,” Geralt replied, twitching when you prodded at the topmost claw mark.

“So there is venom in the wound yet,” you murmured to yourself. Your healing knowledge was vast, and the arachas were particularly venomous. “How are you still alive?”

“I am a witcher; their venom does not affect me as it does a normal human.” He groaned as you used your dagger to slice the rest of the stitches and make a small incision, a small bowl in your other hand to catch the pus and blood as you drained it from the wound. Glancing up, you could see Geralt’s locked jaw and pale skin, eyes hooded against the pain.

“A witcher,” you breathed, you had heard of their mutations that defended them in battle, “but the venom is still in your system. What potion do you need?”

When you received no reply, you glanced up from where you were draining the last of the slashes on his chest, seeing his eyes starting to flutter shut, his chest rising and falling with laboured breathing. “Geralt,” you demanded sharply, shaking his arm to gain his attention. Seeing that you had it, you asked again, “The potion, what do you take to counteract the venom?”

“Insectoid oil” he got out through gritted teeth. Frantically, you ran across the room, searching for the potion he had specified. Hearing movement, you glanced behind you to see the witcher attempting to stand from the bed where you had left him, swaying on his feet. Abandoning your search, you rushed back towards him even as his eyes fell shut and he collapsed towards the floor.

The last thing that he heard before the world went dark was a cry of his name, “Geralt!”


	2. The Transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Geralt is more seriously injured than you originally anticipated. In your desperate attempt to heal him, you access a secret that you did not know about yourself. Chaos ensues.

“Geralt!” You cried out as you rushed towards the man crumpled on your floor. Dropping to your knees next to his prone form, you frantically reached for his neck, searching for a pulse. It was very faint and weak, slower than you liked, but it was there. His breathing was slow and laboured, his chest rising and falling as he rasped out a breath. His skin was pale and hot to touch, his cheeks flushed with fever. Shaking his arm, you tried to wake the stranger who you felt such a connection with, who was familiar to you, even though you had only met him hours earlier. Unable to wake him, you pushed him onto his back, shaking him harder. Finally, you heard the man emit a low moan as his golden irises were revealed through slitted eyes before they slid shut again, his head falling to the side.

Jumping up, you ran back to your shelves, searching briefly before finding the wanted potion and rushing back to Geralt. You pried his jaw open and poured the vial in before closing his mouth and massaging his neck to force him to swallow, tossing the vial to the side. Moving back to his side, you piled bandages onto his wounds to try to put pressure on the slashes, but they were too deep for you to make any difference. You could feel Geralt’s life force draining out from beneath your hands. Tears started running down your face as you desperately tried to think of something, anything, that you could do to stop the precious flow of lifeblood that was being lost from beneath your hands.

A sob broke through your lips as you lowered your head, resigning yourself to the fact that you were going to lose him. You could feel the puddle of blood beneath Geralt slowly spreading and soaking into your skirts. As his blood touched your skin, you felt a tug in your core, something calling out to you. In your frantic state, you grabbed onto that feeling and let it wash over you. A wave of heat poured through you and into Geralt, draining you of your energy. As you watched, the flow of blood slowly stopped before the slashes began to scab over, flesh knitting grotesquely back together, before healing over into new scars. As the scars finished forming, you felt the whole world shift, smells becoming sharper, your vision changing, your senses becoming overwhelmed. With a flash of something running through you, the whole world tipped sideways as you felt yourself falling before the room went dark as you lost consciousness.

**~*~*~*~**

Awareness came back to him slowly, feeling the hard ground beneath him and the soreness that comes from being injured. Groaning, Geralt heaved himself into a sitting position before freezing at the lack of pain, scrabbling at his chest where he saw four new scars, pink against his skin. The memories of the previous night flashed through his mind, waking up to the sound of Y/N sobbing before forcing his way through the magical aura in her room. The fact that he ripped his stitches before rushing to the room he was in, losing blood and slowly succumbing to the venom that was tearing through his veins, burning him from the inside out. Waking briefly to a rush of power filling the room before feeling a wave of heat in his chest and losing the fight against the darkness a second time.

As his senses returned and he reconciled his present with what had happened that evening, Geralt realized that he was alone in the room. Looking around, he could see the bloody bandages Y/N had cut off of him as well as the empty vial of the potion she had forced down his throat. The dagger she had dropped when she went in search of the lifesaving potion. Continuing his examination of the room, his gaze froze on the pile of fabric lying crumpled next to him. Reaching for it, a feeling of dread filled his chest as he saw that the skirt was bloody and had been clawed to shreds. _What happened here? Where is Y/N?_

Standing, he looked for signs of a struggle, and finding none, called for Y/N. A soft yip answered him. Frowning, Geralt looked around the room again before he saw a flash of red disappearing under the bed. Cautiously, he approached the piece of furniture, smelling that distinctive scent of herbs and magic that had first led him to her. Kneeling down, he peered under the bed and was met with the sight of two glowing yellow eyes. “Y/N?” he tried again.

Another yip answered him, stronger this time. As the realization of what had happened dawned on Geralt, he relaxed and started to chuckle. At the sound of a low whine protesting his reaction, he began to laugh outright, holding his side as his new scars protested the movement. “Come on out, little one. Let me have a look at you.”

Shuffling back so that he was seated cross-legged, he waited until he heard the soft sound of fur brushing against the floor before a red fox peeked out from under the bed. The small body was shaking, as it remained half-hidden underneath. Speaking in a low voice, Geralt reassured the small animal, coaxing it out from under the bed and nearer to him. His expression softening, Geralt reached one hand out to the frightened creature and spoke in a soft voice. “I know this is new and frightening, but you don’t have to be afraid. Come out from under the bed and sit with me, Y/N, and I will explain everything to you."

**~*~*~*~**

Hesitantly, you took two steps towards the large man sitting on your floor. You were in shock, no idea what was going on. Waking after having lost consciousness, it took you a minute to free yourself from the cloth that had trapped you. After emerging into the room, you had glanced down to see paws and red fur and had bolted to hide underneath a chair until Geralt woke, before moving to underneath the bed.

Seeing him laugh had released some of the tension in your chest, but you were still filled with unease. Hearing him speak in such a calm manner made you think that maybe everything would be ok. “Come here,” he repeated again. Whining, you lowered yourself to the ground, ears down by the sides of your head between your paws, curling into a ball with your tail wrapped around your side.

“Ok,” he started. Heaving a sigh, he looked at you with his soft golden eyes. “Ok, Y/N, you are a witch.” Your head shot up at this, a weird feeling coming over you. A witch?!? What does he mean? I can’t do magic! Unconsciously, you pressed your ears tighter to your skull while curling tighter into yourself, baring your teeth slightly at the idea of being a witch.

He must have seen something in your reaction to that statement, as he rushed to explain. “Some magic users have the ability to shift forms, between an animal form and a human form. You, obviously, have the form of a red fox. I know it’s scary, losing control like this. It was the same way for me when I first changed forms. The world is too big, sounds are too loud, smells too strong, it will take some time to adapt to the concept of shifting. But I will help you with this, I promise. I will help you learn how to manage your powers, teach you to control the shift between your animal and human form and perhaps we will discover your other magical powers.”

As he spoke, you slowly crept towards the man until you were just within arms reach. Moving very slowly, Geralt reached a hand out and rested it lightly on your head. At his touch, the knot in your chest loosened more, and you moved closer so that you were leaning against his thigh, his hand stroking your back. Feeling his hand running through your fur soothed the rest of the tension in your chest, allowing you to relax into Geralt’s leg, your ears coming up and your tail releasing from where it was curled around your side. Your mind was still whirling with all of this new information, but you felt safe with the man in your house, as if you had a connection. _Maybe it is part of this shapeshifter thing._

Suddenly, you felt two large hands on either side of your chest and you were moving through the air. Geralt had tucked you under his arm as he stood and crossed the room to the bed. Unprepared, you scrabbled against the hands that held you, legs flailing as you tried to free yourself from the grip. You were dropped unceremoniously on top of the covers as Geralt settled himself underneath the blanket, laying on his back with an arm beneath his head. You let a low growl rumble out of your chest, ears pressed back against your head, legs spread apart, clearly not happy with the manhandling.

Raising his head to look down the bed at you, he chuckled slightly. “Such a fierce little fox,” he ground out, before patting the space next to him. “Come, little one, you will need your rest. Healing me and experiencing your first shift is an exhausting experience. Sleep, and we will work on your control in the morning.”

Cautiously, you crawled up the bed, curling into a ball on the bed a little ways away from him. Just as you were getting comfortable, you felt Geralt reach out and drag you over so that you were tucked into the side of his chest. Disgruntled at his movements, you caught his hand between your teeth, applying just the slightest amount of pressure. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to show your displeasure at the way he has been tossing you around before releasing his fingers.

Another chuckle broke the silence. “Sleep little one, we shall talk in the morning.”

As you revelled in the feeling of kinship Despite it not being where you had originally settled, you couldn’t help but sense a bond, a kinship, that you couldn’t explain. The contact with the man lying in your bed had you relaxing against him in spite of yourself listening to his breathing even out and become deeper as he gave in to sleep. Letting your mind ponder the events that had happened the past several hours, you slowly succumbed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! As usual, kudos and comments are welcomed! They help give me motivation to continue writing. Feel free to yell at me here or on tumblr! Until next Saturday!


	3. Little Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn more about your hidden heritage, about the power that you now wield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little late, sorry everyone! I had a crazy busy weekend and didn't get a chance to post it.

You woke the next morning, feeling calm and secure. There was a heavy weight pressing down on your stomach, holding you in place, keeping you warm. As you wriggled around, there was a low groan from underneath you. Freezing in place, you became aware of the large, warm mass underneath you. Suddenly, the whole world tipped as you felt two large hands grab your middle, depositing you to the side as you squealed in surprise. “Good morning, little one,” came the low voice from next to you. Realizing that you had woken up on top of Geralt’s chest, you whined and flopped to the side, avoiding looking at the man in bed next to you.

Groaning, Geralt sat up and pulled the covers off of himself before putting his feet on the floor and standing. As he turned back around, you stared at the vast expanse of muscle presented to you, feeling a little warm now that you were not seeing the man dying on your floor. The healer in you examined the scars on his side, distantly noting the level of detail you were able to see in this form, while the woman in you admired the fine specimen in front of you. You shook yourself, tuning into the last part of Geralt’s question.

“Do you need help getting down?” Offended, you snapped at the offending hand he had reached out towards you and barked at him. Moving closer to the edge of the bed, you peeked over the side to see how far down the floor was.  _ It’s not too far, I can probably do it _ . Half sitting, you tried bunching your muscles, hesitating, before leaping off the mattress. You stumbled a little upon landing, before spinning around and sitting, grinning up at Geralt with your success.

“An independent little one, you are learning quickly.” He glanced around the room and moved towards where the blanket he had around his shoulders had fallen in the middle of the night. Wrapping it around his shoulders, he looked back at you before asking, “I don’t suppose you have any food? It is always best to learn how to shift after you have eaten, it will take a lot of energy the first little while you are practicing.”

Barking at him, you darted over to the door before pawing at the base. Geralt lumbered up behind you before turning the handle and letting you out of the room. Trotting down the hallway, you led Geralt towards your kitchen. Turning to look at him, you yipped, before moving to a cupboard and pawing at it. Geralt stared at you, before following your lead and opening the door to find various pots and pans. “You are adapting to this surprisingly well, little fox.”

Shaking yourself, you pulled your ears back against your head and whined softly. He smiled softly, before adding “Maybe not as well as I thought.”

Crossing the small room, he pulled open the cooling box and changed the subject. “What would you like for breakfast? Do you have any raw meat? Foxes tend to eat small animals.”

You hissed at this, pulling your lips back against your teeth and trying to look as displeased as possible. You were not sure how successful you were, but as Geralt hummed and looked back into the box, you decided you must have relayed your distaste at the concept of raw meat.

“Eggs?” he asked, before pulling out the basket you had collected from the market earlier that week. Selecting several large eggs, he brought them back to the cupboard, pulling out a pan and cracking the eggs into it. Placing it on the stove, he bent down to start a flame in the firebox. That done, he began to whisk the eggs, adding some spices and herbs from the various pouches that were scattered across your cupboards.

Feeling awkward sitting so low on the floor, you looked around for a higher vantage point to watch from while Geralt made breakfast. Spotting one of your kitchen chairs pushed out a little ways from your table, you decided that was the best place to supervise from. Trotting over, you debated how to get up on the seat. Checking over your shoulder to make sure that Geralt was distracted by the eggs, you took a running start and leapt onto the chair.

Only to not quite make it, your back legs hanging off as you tried to pull yourself up onto the chair before slipping and falling, rolling once before coming to lie in a heap on your floor. Picking yourself up and shaking yourself, you heard a choked sound coming from behind you. Glancing over at Geralt, you could see him staring determinedly at the pan in front of him, face set in stone. You squinted at him, tilting your head as you saw the slight shaking of his shoulders. Embarrassed, you ducked your head to rub your muzzle against one of your front legs, hiding your face.

Slinking back over, you put your front paws back onto the seat of the chair, discreetly trying to lever yourself up. You felt a presence behind you before feeling yourself lifted through the air and onto the cushion. You didn’t panic, having recognized the signature and the hands of the man holding you. Situating yourself so that you could survey the room, you trilled lightly in thanks.

Looking through the cupboards, Geralt managed to find where you kept your dishes, pulling out a glass, two plates, as well as a small bowl. Filling the glass and bowl with water, he set it on the table in front of you. You put your paws up on the table, leaning over to lap at the liquid in the bowl. Raising your head, you looked at Geralt who had paused to stare at you. Tilting your head, you stared back at him, puzzled at the expression on his face. You barked at him, startling the man who shook his head before turning back to the stove to start serving the eggs.

Carrying the two plates over to the table, he set one in front of you, setting the second plate on the other side of the table before sitting in the chair opposite you. You regarded the plate, before lowering your head and consuming the eggs. Finished, you jumped down off the chair and began to roam around the kitchen, taking in your expanded senses. You could hear the birds chirping in the forest, the smell of the trees, could see the intricate detail in the grain of the wood on your cupboards. Not only could you smell the scents of all of the different herbs you stored in your kitchen but you could tell each of the scents apart and identify the herb it belonged to.

After completing your circuit around the room, you became aware of a gaze on your back. Turning around, you looked at Geralt who had been watching you explore the kitchen. Ducking your head, you snuck back over to sit next to his feet. Reaching down, Geralt grabbed you under the stomach, lifting you and settling you onto his lap. You squirmed briefly to get comfortable, before finally quieting and humming in appreciation when he started stroking your fur.

“Now that you have eaten, let’s begin your first lesson. You, Y/N, are a shapeshifter.” You grumbled and settled further into his lap, not disagreeing after all that had happened, not but overly happy with what Geralt was trying to explain to you. “From what I have seen of you, I believe you to be a witch with healing powers. My wounds have completely healed, with only scars left. Shapeshifters all have magic, though not all those who have magic are shapeshifters. We are a rare kind, having the ability to shift between our animal and our human form. I am a white wolf, as you saw earlier. You can have many different species as your animal form, you are a rare subset of fox species. I actually have not come across one of your kind before.”

Anxious, you stood and tried to balance on Geralt’s thighs before leaping clumsily off of his legs and onto the floor. Geralt fell silent, watching you pace. Sighing, he stood and headed for the door. Glancing over his shoulder at you, he said “Come, let’s go outside. You are too anxious, cooped up inside. You need to be calm before we can try shifting.”

Following the large man, the two of you left the house and headed into the forest. You shot off ahead of him, darting through the underbrush, experiencing the smells and sights as if for the first time. Everything smelled so strong, you could see so much  _ more _ than you ever had before. You marvelled at your new views, before circling back around to find Geralt smiling to himself.

As your pair reached a clearing in the forest, Geralt headed to the middle and sat down cross legged. Patting the grass next to him, he signalled for you to come join him. Trotting over, you sat down next to him and peered up at his face. “Ok,” he sighed. “When shifting, you have to draw your power from within. Imagine that there is a well of magic within you, you have to find it, deep down. Once you do, the shift will come naturally.”

He looked down at you as you stared up at him with blank eyes. Geralt grimaced and scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s hard to explain, you really just have to search for your magic source and the rest will follow. Let’s start with meditating, and see where that gets us.”

You scrunched your nose up, huffing at the man before closing your eyes and silencing your mind. You worked on calming yourself, listening to the sounds of the birds, smelling the plants, feeling the wind blowing through your fur. Remembering Geralt’s words, you turned your attention inward, searching for something, although you didn’t know what. After a brief time, you became aware of a pull on your mind. Following it, you came to a ball inside you, brimming with power. Unsure of what it was, you backed off slightly, allowing yourself to feel the presence of the man beside you. Focusing on him, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. Reassured by the connection you had, you refocused on the power within you. Instinctively, you reached out and touched the edge, before drawing back at the overwhelming pull. Something deep within you sang at the touch. You paused and listened to the song, which spoke to you of magic and kinship, before gathering your courage and diving into the well that was within you. As you did, you felt a wave of power and warmth surge through you, feeling your world  _ shift _ . 

The next thing you knew, you were sitting on the grass. The world seemed dimmer, but still bright. Glancing next to you, you could see that Geralt was sitting with his eyes closed. Without opening them, he took the blanket off of his shoulders and draped it onto your lap. It was only as he did this that you realized you were naked. With a squeak, you grabbed at the blanket and wrapped it around yourself, your cheeks flaming with heat. “Are you covered?” the man asked, still keeping his eyes closed. 

You nodded, before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yes,” you rasped out, unused to the feeling of speaking. Having spent the last while as a fox, the feeling of a human mouth was odd, you were unused to forming words and speaking aloud.

“Good,” he got to his feet. “Let’s head back to your house and I will explain more.”

You struggled to your feet, before feeling your body go limp, your legs giving out underneath you. Geralt lunged in your direction, grabbing you and helping you slide back down to a sitting position, arranging you between in his lap, your legs over one of his, sitting sideways in his lap, his arms wrapped around you to help support your body. Again, you felt your cheeks flame, embarrassed at the closeness between you. Geralt seemed unbothered by the position you were in, frowning down at you with a concerned look on his face. “I always forget you are like baby deer after your first shift. Your first few changes are the worst, as you practice you will not feel the effects as much.” He glanced down at the blanket wrapped around you, “you will also learn to keep your clothes through your shift as well.” 

Embarrassed, you attempted to lift yourself out of his lap. As you struggled, you felt Geralt’s grip on you tighten, holding you in place. “You are fine, little fox, this does not bother me. Your first shift is always the hardest, and the fact that you are mostly upright is impressive in itself.” He tugged you closer so that you were tucked under his chin, leaning against his chest. “Rest and regain your energy, and then we will head back to the house.”

Sighing, you let yourself relax against him, leaning your head against his chest, feeling comforted by his arms wrapped around you. You wondered at the feeling of security that you felt from being around him. Though you had just met Geralt, you felt calmest in his presence. There was another feeling there, something you didn’t want to examine. You knew about witchers, knew the stories that claimed they couldn’t feel. After the hectic night that the two of you had had, you couldn’t believe that to be true. Even as you came to this revelation, you refused to acknowledge the warm feeling that sat behind your ribcage. 

Letting your eyes fall shut, you nestled further into Geralt’s arms. A wave of exhaustion washed over you, and though you fought against it, you went limp, allowing your tiredness to pull you down into sleep’s dark embrace. 

**~*~*~*~**

  
  


Feeling you go limp in his arms, Geralt tensed, glancing down in concern, only to see a peaceful expression on your face. Realizing you had fallen asleep in his arms caused a warm feeling to rush through him. He reached up to brush a piece of hair away from your face. “My little fox,” he murmured, “what am I to do with you?”

Geralt was unsure of his feelings towards you. He supposed he felt grateful to you for having saved his life, but it was so much more than that. It felt right having you in his arms, at his side. He had always felt a connection with anyone who had the ability to shape shift, but it was different with you. When he had grabbed you as you collapsed, he had touched your skin for the first time. At that moment, he had felt such a sense of familiarity and rightness that he had almost missed grabbing you. He felt incredibly protective of you, reluctant to let you leave his company. Even though he had only known you for a short time, he would go to extremes to make sure that you were safe. 

Unwilling to address them, he pushed those thoughts away for the time being. He gathered you to him, draping your arms around his neck to help secure you to his chest, ensuring that the blanket was still covering you, before standing and making his way back to the house. As he stood, you shifted in his arm and he froze, not wanting to wake you. When you only held on tighter, he started walking again, treading softly so as not to disturb you.

Reaching your gate, he gently nudged it open with his hip before carrying you inside, heading towards the back of the house where your bedroom was. Carefully setting you down, he arranged the blankets around you. Gently, he brushed the hair out of your face and ran a hand down your cheek. You sighed, a small smile coming to your face as you burrowed further into the blankets. Abruptly, Geralt turned and left the room, ignoring the burning feeling in his chest. He headed back to the front of the house, softly closing the door and making his way back into the forest.


	4. The Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend some time practicing with your newfound powers while slowly deepening your relationship with Geralt. The two of you are in for a frightening revelation.

Consciousness came back slowly. You remained still, aware that you were in your own bed, but with no recollection of how you got there. As you stared up at your ceiling, you slowly remembered following Geralt out into the forest and learning how to shift between your two forms. Closing your eyes, you searched within yourself until you found the well of power. It was easier to find it now that you knew where it was. You could feel the power humming through your veins, calling to you to use it. Although tempted, with a great effort you withdrew from within yourself before opening your eyes. You sat up and swung your feet out of bed, pulling the blanket around your shoulders as you stood up and went in search of a dress. As you searched your room, you froze when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. There were four new silver scars decorating your side. Getting closer to the mirror, you examined your skin, poking and prodding at them. There was no pain, but with that conclusion came the realization that the scars were in the same place as Geralt’s injuries. Unsure of how you felt bearing the same marks as the man with whom you felt such a connection to, you shook yourself and ignored them for the time being, grabbing a dress out of your closet to clothe yourself. 

Leaving your room, you wandered down the hallway looking for the witcher who had helped you earlier that day. You poked your head into your work room, wondering if he had maybe slept on the bed in there. Not finding him, you continued into the main room to see if he had stayed on the couch while he waited for you to wake. The room was empty, and didn’t look as if anyone had been there in the last little while. The embers were dark and the air cold, not showing any signs of an occupant.

You entered your kitchen, now starting to worry when you couldn’t find the man who had turned your world upside down. You thought about the feelings you had for him, how you still had so many questions, and you slowly turned to panic. You could feel your breathing accelerating the longer you couldn’t find the witcher. Going back to the main room of your house and continuing to your door, you could see that it wasn’t latched like it should be if you had closed and locked it from the inside. Rushing towards the door, you pulled it open and emerged from your house, blinking at the change in light. You frantically looked around your yard, searching for the signature white hair to show you the man hadn’t left. Finding none, you staggered over to the small bench next to your door, dropping down onto it and putting your head in your hands, your eyes filling with tears.  _ He left. Without even saying goodbye. I thought that maybe a thank you would have been warranted for saving his life. I guess witchers really don’t have emotions. _

Tears started rolling down your face as you tried desperately not to cry at the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Your knowledge of your existence had just completely changed and the only person who had any knowledge of it had disappeared while you were sleeping. You felt a witcher shaped hole in your chest, something missing now that the man you felt a deep connection with was gone.

Lost in your thoughts, you missed the sound of hoofbeats riding up to your gate. A hand touched your shoulder, followed by a low voice. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

Looking up, you saw the white hair and golden eyes you had been looking for. Launching yourself off the bench, you wrapped your arms around Geralt’s middle, feeling him tense under your grip, sobbing desperately into his shirt. “I- I- I thought you- you left me, that you- you- you- left without say- saying goodbye,” you managed to get out, still clinging to the man. Slowly, his arms came up to enfold you, hesitating before pulling you tighter to his chest, his body relaxing as he embraced you. A hand rubbed soft circles into your back, soothing you.

“Shhh, I’m here, little fox. I did not mean to frighten you, I had hoped you would sleep longer. I only went to fetch my belongings now that I am in my human form. I thought that I would have been back before you woke again.” Sniffling, you lifted your face out of Geralt’s chest to look up at him. He smiled softly down at you before lifting one hand to wipe away your tears. “Come, let’s go make a cup of tea. That will help you calm down.”

Nodding, you lay your head back on his chest, tightening your grip for a moment before releasing the man and taking a step back. As you did so, you caught a glimpse of the brown and white horse that stood tied to the inside of your gate. You gasped before flouncing over, lifting a hand to stroke between the horse’s eyes. “Hello beauty,” you murmured.

“This is Roach,” Geralt came to stand next to you. He began unsaddling his mare, lifting the bags down and loosening the straps.

“What an unfortunate name,” you told the horse. “I wonder who ever gave it to you.”You could feel Geralt shooting you a look, before you bent down to retrieve one of his bags. When he tried to take it from you, you ignored him and turned towards the door, calling over your shoulder, “Are you coming, witcher?”

Inside, you dropped the bags at the end of your couch, before moving to your kitchen. Watching the man out of the corner of your eye, you swung your head sharply towards him when you caught the grimace that appeared on his face as he dropped the rest of his gear. Your eyes narrowed as his hand came up to rub at the side of his chest. “Alright,” you started towards him, “let me see.”

“What?” Instinctively, he backed away from you. You grabbed his hand, tugging him along to your work room.

“You were holding your chest.” Releasing his hand, you pushed him to sit on the bed. “Come now, off with your shirt.”

“Why?” he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at you, not making any move to remove his shirt.

“You were scowling and holding your side, I want to look at the scars and make sure that they healed properly.” You moved to his side, poking at his shoulder. Muttering about the stubbornness of women under his breath, Geralt went to stand from the bed. You smacked him upside the head, “I heard that!” Startled, Geralt tilted his head and looked hard at you. You went to poke him again, freezing when he grabbed your finger. You stared at each other, before Geralt shook himself and released your hand, pulling his shirt over his head. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you. The man sitting on your bed was made up of hard muscle, not an ounce of softness on him. And the scars, there were so many of them. Some were older, faded silvery lines, some more recent, still pink and angry. You reached out cautiously and brushed your fingers over the raised lines where his most recent injury was. His body tensed at your touch, before relaxing, a shiver travelling up his spine. Pushing aside the dangerous thoughts that whirled around your head, you sat down on the bed next to him, lowering your head so that you could examine the scars more closely. The urge to smell for the venom overcame you, and before you realized what you were doing, you had dropped your head further before gently inhaling, searching for a scent that did not belong. All you could smell was a musky, earthy smell that you realized you had begun to associate with Geralt.

At your sudden movement, Geralt had jumped before staring down at you in confusion. Embarrassed, you looked up at him with flaming cheeks before glancing back down as you saw his golden eyes fixed on you. He continued to stare, the startled but thoughtful look from earlier taking over his face. Choosing to ignore him for the moment, you brought your fingers back up to the scars to do a more thorough examination.

They appeared to be healing normally, no extra swelling or redness to indicate infection. You ran your fingers over the bumps in Geralt’s skin, ignoring the sound he made in the back of his throat. You poked at the skin next to the scars, causing the man to jump and flinch away, before scowling at you in annoyance. You stood from the bed, turning to grab his shirt and toss it at him, before crossing to the basin on the other side of the room to wash your hands. With your back turned, you took a moment to compose yourself from being in such close proximity to the man.

Finished with your task, you headed for the door, sensing Geralt stand from the bed and follow you. You made your way to the kitchen, before puttering around, pulling out various ingredients and dishes to begin making lunch for the two of you. You heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor and a body being lowered with a groan. You continued to work, before hearing a “Well?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you observed Geralt watching you with his golden eyes. “Well what?”

“What have you decided about my injuries?” he inquired.

“Oh,” your cheeks flamed, having forgotten what the purpose of the trip to your work room had been for. “They appear to be healing well, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, there was no swelling or excessive redness. You will likely be sore for a couple of days, but I wouldn’t worry about your injuries too much. Just take it easy for a little longer.”

You avoided looking at Geralt, continuing to measure out and add ingredients to your bowl before beginning to mix and then knead the dough with your hands. Silence fell upon the room as you continued to work, rolling the dough out before cutting it into small circles. Once that was done, you picked up a pan, carrying it over to the stove. “Why did you smell my wound earlier?”

Startled, you dropped the pan you were carrying, jumping again when it hit the floor with a bang. “Excuse me?” you asked, whirling to look at the witcher sitting on your kitchen chair. 

“You smelt my side when you were looking at it, in your workroom.” You stared at him, trying to decide if he was playing with you or if he was serious. Deciding he was not trying to make fun of you, you sighed as you bent to pick up the pan and put it on the stove. 

Dropping a spoonful of butter into the pan, you answered the earlier question. “I don’t know, it just felt like something I should have done,” you admitted. “I didn’t actually think about what I was doing until after I had already done it.”

Geralt hummed. “I think your senses are starting to come in.”

Your hands stilled. “My what?”

“Your senses. Once a shapeshifter experiences their first shift, there are certain changes that occur in their human form. They typically follow what your animal form excels at. You heard me muttering earlier, which you wouldn’t have if you had the hearing of a normal human. Smelling the wound comes from your animal side as well.” Geralt explained. “Like I mentioned, I have not come across your kind before so I am not knowledgeable in what changes you will experience, but I would expect it to be fairly similar to myself, wolves and foxes are not too different. I imagine your senses will expand, which they appear to be doing, although the sniffing of the wounds is new.”

You pulled a face as he smirked at you, annoyed at his teasing. His smile faded as he continued. “Most humans don’t like our kind. Unless you trust them, you should never reveal what you are. At best, they will shun you, at worst, they will kill you. They don’t see us as human, instead they believe us to be monsters, only there to be slaughtered. They treat us worse than mages and sorcerers, especially the poorer folk. The myths that follow our kind would have them believe that we are drooling, mindless beasts who hunt them in the dark. We murder and maim, sometimes we steal children from their cradles and replace them with our own, how else would our species exist? We aren’t aware enough to have relationships with each other. There is a lot of discrimination towards us, just be aware of that.”

You had fallen silent at his words, tears beginning to run down your face. You tried to hide them, but the slight shake of your shoulders gave you away. You heard the chair scrape back from the table before a warmth was at your back, arms wrapped around you, your head tucked under a chin. “I am sorry this has happened to you, little fox,” came the murmur above you.

Turning, you tucked your arms underneath Geralt’s, returning the embrace. You laid your head against his chest. “If it had not happened, you would be dead and I would never have met you. As much as this will be hard for me to reconcile with, I am glad that I have met you, at the least.”

Pulling back to look up at him, you asked. “Are there more of your- … our kind?” Geralt’s grip on you tightened, his eyes softening as he looked down at you.

“There are, I think you would like my pack. Perhaps some day, when you are ready, you could meet them.”

You gently pushed at his chest, signalling for him to release you. “I think I would, if they are anything like you.” His grip tightened further, pulling you back into his chest, your chin tucked under his head once again. “Geralt!” you squirmed, trying to free yourself from his embrace. Chuckling, he let you go, catching you when the sudden release made you stumble. Pouting, you smacked his chest before turning back to your stove, flipping the bread just in time before it started to burn.

Fishing the small loaves out of the pan, you placed them on a plate before adding pieces of fresh fruit and dried meat that you had stored in your kitchen, handing them to Geralt. You followed him to the table holding two glasses and a pitcher of water. The two of you ate in a companionable silence, Geralt giving you the time you needed to digest the information that had been dumped on you.

The silence continued as you collected the dishes and left them in your sink to soak, before heading outside with Geralt following you. You began to work in your garden, pulling any weeds that had begun to take root in the few days that you had neglected your garden, occupied with the new revelations about yourself. As you worked, you could sense Geralt settling against the side of your house, regarding you with his golden eyes.

You ignored him, as well as the feelings that bubbled up within you at the domesticity of the situation you were in. You refused to let yourself think about how nice it would be for the two of you to spend your days basking in the sun, attending to your plants, preparing your potions, and just enjoying each other’s company.  _ He will leave soon, you know that,  _ you scolded yourself,  _ he has people to get back to; he mentioned having a pack _ . 

Some time passed, the sun climbing high above you in the sky overhead. You snuck a glance back at the witcher, only to see him leaning back, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. You giggled to yourself, not having seen him look so relaxed since you had met him.

Closing your eyes, you reached down within yourself, focusing on searching for that well of power. Finding it, you focused on the image of cloth and skin melding into fur, of your body shrinking, your senses sharpening. The somewhat familiar wave of heat surged through you as you felt yourself  _ shift _ . You slowly became aware of the birds singing, the wind rustling through the trees. You could hear small animals running through the grass, hiding from the wing beats of the birds ahead. You marvelled at all of the new sounds you could hear with your heightened sense, delighted at the new world you were immersed in. You could feel a set of eyes on you, burning you with their gaze as they stared.

Opening your eyes, you could see that Geralt was still resting against the wall.  _ That’s odd, his eyes are closed. _ Mentally, you shrugged.  _ He must be playing games with me. Two can do that! _ Sinking to your belly, you slunk your way across the dirt, pausing when you saw his nose crinkle before relaxing once more. As you got closer, you came to the realization that the witcher was dozing. Delighted at this revelation, you got as close to the man as possible before lowering your belly to the dirt. You observed Geralt, admiring the strong line of his jaw, the way that his hair shone pure white in the sun. Gathering yourself, you coiled your muscles in preparation of leaping.

All of a sudden, you felt something tug on your tail. Releasing a screech, you whirled around and pounced, catching and trapping a golden hawk that had been sitting next to your tail. At your screech, Geralt woke with a start, attempting to leap to his feet before stumbling and landing on one knee, staring at you and the hawk in surprise.

You gently closed your teeth around the bird’s neck before carrying your prize over to Geralt and depositing it at his feet, sitting and barking at him with pride. The bird shook itself, fixing you with a glare, before lifting its wings to reveal the harness strapped to its chest. Geralt reached down to detach the small scroll attached to the strap before the bird spread its wings and leapt into the air. As it passed your muzzle you snapped at it, causing the bird to shriek at you, circling and diving at Geralt before taking off over the forest.

Having started once again at the bird diving, Geralt fixed you with a glare, before sighing and sitting back down against the wall, his legs outstretched. You trotted over and climbed into his lap, draping your head over one of his large thighs. As he opened and read the letter, one of his hands found its way into your fur. As he read, his grip tensed, pulling on your fur. Upset at the pressure, you rolled over onto your back and pawed at his stomach before reaching out with your muzzle and trying to grasp the paper between your teeth.

“Stop it,” he chided, looking down at you and releasing his hand from your fur and tapping your muzzle. Disgruntled, you nipped at his fingers before flipping back over to your stomach, pressing as close to the man as you could get. You could feel him tensing more and more as he read the letter; sitting up, you nosed at his arm, silently asking what the matter was.

“It’s from Yennefer, one of my pack. We were searching for someone, someone who was - Fuck.” he swore as he got to the end of the letter. “I have to go, this is why I was in the forest in the first place, looking for this man.”

You whined, laying your head back on his leg, upset at the prospect of him leaving. His hand came down to rest on your back, stroking your fur. “I know, little fox. I know.” The two of you sat there for a while longer before Geralt gently lifted your head from his leg and stood, heading back into the house. You followed him, worried at the hard set of his shoulders. You could see him gathering his belongings, could sense the anxiousness rolling off of him in waves. Determined to find out what was bothering him, what made him need to leave so suddenly, you grabbed one of his dagger sheaths, dragged it away, and sat on it, staring at him with hard eyes.

Sensing your intentions, Geralt sighed, dragging his hand over his face. “The letter was from Yennefer, another member of my pack. We have been searching for a sorcerer, I believed him to be in this forest.” He dropped onto your couch, his head low. After a brief pause, he lifted his face to look at you. “He has been trapping and murdering shapeshifters.”


	5. The Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt tells you more of the actual reason he was in the forest near your home. You receive an unexpected visitor who bears some unnerving news.

_ He has been trapping and murdering shapeshifters. _

You felt your world stop at those words, the calmness that had manifested in you from the day shattering as fear took hold once more. You had known this revelation would make your life difficult, but you hadn’t imagined the level of danger that that one sentence identified.

You stayed where you sat, staring at Geralt as he looked back at the floor. A shiver ran through your body before you whined, slinking over to where he sat. Absently, he reached down and hooked his hand underneath your middle, lifting you to sit on the seat next to him. He left his hand in your fur, encouraging you to nuzzle against him, trying to draw comfort from the contact.

Geralt suddenly broke the silence. “Shapeshifters are a rare breed; not much is known about our kind. People, especially mages, have tried to study us and learn more but we guard our secrets fiercely. Most outsiders trying to learn about us don’t have good intentions. We have been finding murdered shapeshifters, and it looks like they’ve been used for experimentation and study.”

You felt sick, ears pulling back to tuck against your skull. “That’s why I was here in the first place; I had tracked the deaths to another village on the edge of this forest. We think it's a small group of people led by a sorcerer. We’re not sure why they are studying us, just that they have been taking shapeshifters at an alarming rate. My pack and I are investigating this; that’s who the letter is from. Yennefer, a mage in my pack, discovered new deaths yesterday and needs me to look into it. She thinks she's found where this group has been doing their experimentation.”

You whined lowly in the back of your throat, causing Geralt to look down at you. He stroked your head softly, before asking. “Can you change back?”

Closing your eyes as you focused, you drew the power up from below, allowing it to wash over you. When you opened your eyes again, you were sitting on the couch as Geralt observed you. You swayed as exhaustion surged through you, before righting yourself and looking up at Geralt expectantly. His lips quirked at the corners. “You are getting better at this.”

You shook your head to rid yourself of the phantom feeling of a muzzle. “It still feels weird, although I am not as drained.” You turned to face the man next to you. “Are you sure you have to go?”

He paused, searching for something in your face. Seeming to find it, he nodded, saying “I do. If I don’t look into this, no one else will and our kind will continue to be murdered.”

He lifted a hand to brush a strand of your hair out of your face. You caught his hand, bringing it to your mouth to press a kiss against his palm, causing him to start. “I just worry. If so many have died, what's to say they won’t hurt you too?”

His eyes flashed, “Are you worried about me, little fox?”

You hesitated, as the feelings you had been ignoring bubbled back up. You had no idea where they were coming from, you hadn’t even known this man for a week and yet there was an undeniable connection between the two of you. Looking down, you whispered, “I am. I don’t know why, but there is some feeling telling me something is going to go wrong.” You glanced up at him with fear in your eyes. “I have been having dreams.”

“Dreams?” he asked sharply, “of what?”

“They have just been flashes,” you shook your head. ”Different animals, a dark castle. Blood, pain, a feeling like I’m running from something. Geralt, it scares me.”

He laced his fingers with yours. “You don’t have to be scared, little fox. Our community is very protective of each other. Any shapeshifter you find will help you, if that’s what you’re worried about. That being said, a shapeshifters instincts are one of their best weapons. Listen to them; if you are worried about something, be wary of your surroundings.” 

Unable to find the words to describe your feelings of fear, you just nodded your head and gave his hand a light squeeze.

Hesitantly, he glanced away before looking back over at you, “You could come with me.” You turned your head sharply, shocked at his offer. “Join my pack, run with me. We could keep you safe.”

You were silent, turning your gaze to look out the window. “It’s not safe for lone shapeshifters; too often we are discovered, turned on by friends and family, betrayed by those we thought we could trust. They don’t understand what we are.”

“Not here. My people won’t abandon me. My home, my life, is here in this village, Geralt. I grew up here, have watched the children grow up here. I was there when some of them were born. I can’t just up and leave. People need me.” You were certain of this, not meeting his gaze as you looked off into the distance, towards the little village you had made your home for most of your life. “As much as I would love to join you, I can’t leave this behind.”

“I don’t need an answer now, little fox.” A hand reached under your chin, lifting your face so you met his golden eyes. “It is a dangerous world for our kind, and I only think of your safety when I ask. Somehow, secrets get out and people turn against us. I have seen it time and time again. Friends turn against you and drive you out, betraying you though you help them.” 

His eyes were haunted as he spoke, memories flickering across the surface. He refocused on you. “I would also like for you to be near me,” he rumbled, “to have you close, be able to hold you at night. Think about it, my little fox, and answer me when I return. You can meet the rest of my pack, and maybe that will help you with your decision.” 

Turning away from you, he stood and searched through his saddlebags before coming up with the dagger that you had stolen from him earlier. He handed it to you without a word, closing your fingers around it when you tried to refuse it. “Please, for me.” Looking into his eyes, seeing the fear for you in them, you finally relented, grasping the dagger in its sheath and letting your arm drop to your side. You followed him as he gathered his belongings and headed out the door, slinging them over his mount, stopping in the doorway to watch him.

Geralt tugged on the straps of his saddle, making sure everything was secure before he returned to where you stood, arms wrapped around your middle, posture defeated. He gently swept a piece of hair back from your face, gazing softly into your eyes. “Don’t fear for me little fox, I have lived a long time and faced more dangerous people than this.” 

As you gazed into his golden eyes, you felt slightly more assured that the man you had come to care for would be safe. The emotions you had been suppressing came back full force, astounding you at the strength of feelings you had for him. Seeming to sense this, Geralt leaned down, hesitating just slightly before he brushed his lips against your forehead, pulling back to lean your foreheads together briefly before lifting his head once more. 

With that, he turned and mounted Roach, glancing back at you standing in your doorway as he passed through the gates. “I shall only be a few days; my pack is not far from here. I will be back in no time. Think of my offer, Y/N, don’t just brush it aside.” You lifted your hand in farewell, watching him until he disappeared between the trees, before going into your house and dropping into a chair, your mind whirling at his last request.

_ Go with him? How could I, my village needs me. I am the only healer, people would suffer without me. They would never cast me out, my people know me. _

_ He said he wanted me near him _ .

Pushing the dangerous thoughts from your head, you headed back inside. Entering your workroom, you began cleaning the materials left over from Geralt’s treatment. As you gathered the bandages you had cut off of him, you caught a whiff of his scent, musky and earthy, and your eyes filled with tears. He had just left, and already you were missing your presence. Shaking yourself, you dumped the used bandages and materials into your disposal bin before heading to your kitchen. You puttered there for a while, making yourself dinner and then cleaning up, ignoring the feelings that bubbled up in your chest at seeing the extra set of dishes you had unthinkingly pulled out.

Thoughts and doubts whirled through your head. You wanted to go with Geralt, but your life was here. How could you just up and leave? Your parents were buried here, your friends lived in town.

You stood abruptly and paced towards your gate, heading to the forest. You needed to go for a walk, that always helped clear your head. Wandering through the forest, you allowed the scents and sounds to soothe you, stripping away your anxiety and your stress. You walked faster, and faster, until you were running, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with it, trees flying past you as you sprinted.

When you felt the power swell within you, you didn’t deny it. Instead, you allowed your magic to surge through you, your body dropping forwards as you continued running, only now on four legs instead of two. Your vision became sharper, the smells stronger. You could hear the heartbeat of some small rodent in the trees. Veering off the path, you raced towards the sound, relishing in the exhilaration that accompanied your chase. You pounced, missing when the animal darted into a small hole in the base of a tree. Slowing, you snuffled around the edge.

You froze at the sound of something large stepping on a branch, lifting your head and searching for where it came from. Your tail bushed, fur standing on end as you listened for footsteps, a heartbeat, anything that would identify the large predator that your senses were trying to warn you of. You dropped low to the ground, crawling into the ferns, feeling like there were eyes burning into your skin.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, listening for any movement that might give their position away. Slowly relaxing, you shook yourself.  _ Silly _ , you scolded,  _ just because Geralt said there was a sorcerer out there doesn’t mean you are always in immediate danger _ .

Taking off again, you wandered through the forest, watching the birds fly high above you. The urge to snap and pounce at them crept up on you, forcing you up the base of a tree into its branches.

You explored for what felt like hours, climbing trees, crawling through the underbrush, chasing rodents. The sun was below the horizon and the moon just peaking over the treeline when you finally trotted back to your house. You shifted back before locking your door and heading to your bathroom, stripping down to wash yourself.

You flopped into bed, exhausted from everything that had happened that day. You were still unsure, but your mind was quieter now, letting you succumb to sleep quickly.

**~*~*~*~**

_ A shadowy figure looked furtively over its shoulder as it slipped into a dark alleyway. A glowing circle appeared in the air, before another form stepped out. “She’s one of them.” _

_ A small bag changed hands, a clinking sound ringing through the air as the second figure stepped back through the portal, the first turning and heading back down the alleyway, glancing into the street before slipping away in the shadows. _

**~*~*~*~**

The clearing was calm when Geralt rode in, stopping and dismounting from Roach before tying her to a tree. He could see Yennefer’s tent set up on the far side, with the remains of a campfire in the middle surrounded by logs. It was there that he found Jaskier, sitting and quietly strumming his lute while singing softly to a mostly grown lion cub who was dozing on the ground next to him. Jaskier nodded to him as he passed, continuing to play the instrument in his hands. The lion lifted its head, blinking blearily at the man and yawning, revealing its sharp teeth. Geralt dropped a hand on its head and continued on his way, the lion putting its head back down and peering at Jaskier.

Approaching the tent, he ducked underneath the flap as he entered. He spotted Yennefer across the larger than normal space, striding towards her to join her at the table. She glanced up at him and greeted him with a tight, closed-lip smile before looking back down at the map in front of her. Geralt looked down, seeing the small ‘x’s laid out across the nation. He glared at the new batch closest to where they were staying.

“He got another three?” he rumbled, glancing over at the woman next to him. She nodded sharply. “We know he is still in the area though, they disappeared less than a fortnight ago.”

Geralt hummed, shifting his feet. “We need to find him; there have been too many deaths. Too many shapeshifters gone. It’s not safe for our people.”

Yennefer shot him a sharp glance, “You’ve never much cared to get involved before, Geralt, what changed your mind? Speaking of which, where have you been? You said you would be back yesterday.” 

He glared at her. “I was detained by an unexpected occurrence.”

“And what would that be? You don’t typically get laid up for that long.” At his silence, she sniffed the air, her eyes widening at the smell. “Were you injured, Geralt? I can smell herbs and insectoid oil.”

Geralt caught her hands as she went to look him over for injuries, “I was injured, Yenn, but not anymore. I met another shapeshifter, a healer. She treated me, I’m fine now.” She pulled her hands back, satisfied with that answer.

“Where is she?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where is she?” Yennefer repeated, “It’s not like you to leave lone shapeshifters by themselves. You normally take them back to our community.”

Geralt stared hard at her, “Who said anything about a lone shapeshifter?

“You said her, not them. Normally you say the pack took you in. So again I ask, where is she? Especially with this sorcerer running around, it is dangerous for our kind to be out on their own.” Yennefer ran her fingers over the map absently as she continued to look at Geralt, waiting for an answer.

Tense, Geralt turned away from her, looking back at the map on the table. “she wasn’t sure if she wanted to leave or not. I’m going to return in a few days to get her answer.

Sensing that this mystery woman was a touchy subject for the witcher, Yennefer changed the subject as she shared what new information she had discovered. “All of his kills have radiated out from this spot,” she tapped a spot near where they were camped. “I think that this is where he must be basing his research. Tomorrow we should pack up and head that way, see if we can find anything there.”

Geralt hummed his agreement before turning and stalking out of the tent, heading back to where Roach was to unsaddle her and get settled for the night.

**~*~*~*~**

_ A dark castle, terror, running through the forest. You had to get away, he was going to kill you.  _ **_Geralt! Help me!_ ** _ A wolf’s golden eyes staring at you before turning and walking away, followed by a lion. A raven, swooping through the air. Torches, pitchforks, an angry crowd yelling as you desperately scrambled away. You couldn’t breathe.  _ **_Please, someone! Help!_ **

_ Pain _

_ Burning _

_ Fear _

You woke with a violent start, shooting up to a sitting position, gasping for air. The dreams were back again, you had had them two nights in a row now, ever since Geralt had left. You sat there, trying to control your breathing. As it slowed, you glanced outside. The sun was high in the sky now; you had slept late, past noon.

Shaking yourself, you emerged from your cocoon of blankets, dressing yourself and heading for the kitchen to eat a late lunch. As you finished and were cleaning the dishes, you became aware of footsteps approaching your door. Drying your hands, you set your cloth to the side and headed to the door, hearing your visitor knock on your way there.

Opening the door, you were greeted with the sight of your friend Kiala. You grinned at her before your face fell at her expression. “Is everything ok? Am I needed in the village?”

Her eyes quickly searched the yard before she turned to you, face pinched, mouth set in a hard line. “Y/N, can I come in?”

“Of course,” you stepped back from the entranceway to let her into your house, sweeping the trees around your house for anything out of the ordinary before closing the door. You led her to the couch where you both sat.

  
“What is it, Kiala? What has happened?” She burst into tears. Startled, you reached for her hands, drawing them into your lap. “What is it? What is wrong? Is someone hurt? Kiala, please, speak to me.”

“They are coming to kill you,” she sobbed. You froze at her words, “Vissen saw you in the forest. He said you were a witch, that you had magical powers and have enslaved the town. That you could turn into a great beast, he saw you kill animals in the forest. They are coming to drive you out or kill you, I didn’t wait to hear what they decided.”

_ Betrayal.  _

_ Fear. _

Kiala continued babbling, unaware of your reaction. “You’re not a witch, are you? You’ve been in this town since you were a little girl! You were there when I gave birth, how could they think this? Tell me it's not true, tell me they’ve lost their minds.”

Your thoughts whirled, Geralt's words coming to mind.  _ Somehow, secrets get out and people turn against us. I have seen it time and time again. Friends turn against you and drive you out, betraying you though you help them _ . His face had been sad when he spoke, as if he knew this would happen.

Kiala had fallen silent, noticing your distraction. She squeezed your hands gently, staring at your face. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t meet her gaze. “Not in the way that he has been describing it.” You felt her pull her hands away, the motion striking at your heart. You could smell something bitter in the air, slowly growing stronger the longer the two of you sat.

You lifted your head, eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t know, I swear.” Standing abruptly, you took two steps away from the couch, arms wrapped around your middle, shoulders hunched as if to ward off an incoming blow. You glanced at her, the tears starting to spill over.

Seeing your pain, Kiala reached a hand towards you, catching herself at the last second. “You didn’t know what?”

Turning slowly, you stared at a spot over Kiala’s head, refusing to meet her eyes. “I have the ability to heal, not just with potions. I only found out two days ago, when I came across an injured man in the forest. I didn’t know! I can’t use spells, cast curses, I can only heal! And I don’t even know how to use that power!” You didn’t mention your shapeshifting abilities, too afraid of what your friend would think.

Kiala stood from the couch, cautiously approaching you. When you didn’t move, she wrapped her arms around you, bringing your head to rest on her shoulder. You burst into tears, gripping her shift in your hands, your whole body shuddering as you sobbed at the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal. She shushed you, swaying back and forth to soothe you as if you were a child.

As your breathing calmed, she pulled back to regard you. “What else is there?”

You stared at her, your expression shuttering so as not to reveal your emotions. She smiled gently, “Y/N, you are one of my oldest friends. That’s not everything. Vissen mentioned you turned into a beast as well. Now, I don’t know that I believe that, but it’s not just healing that you can do.”

Your grip on her clothes tightened as you put your head back on her shoulder, breath shuddering out of you as you tried to suppress another sob. “It's a fox.” You felt her shift beneath you but she didn’t say anything at your words. “I have the ability to shapeshift, but I change into a fox, not a beast! And I wouldn’t hurt anyone, I haven’t killed anything! I would never, I’m a healer! I help  _ preserve _ life, not take it!”

Again, you burst into tears. Kiala’s hand came up to rest in your hair as she walked the two of you backwards to sit back down on your couch. She held you as you cried, comforting you, providing silent support.

Cried out, you slowly released yourself from her embrace, looking up to meet her eyes with a sad smile. “They won’t believe me, will they?”

Kiala hesitated, before shaking her head. “I don’t know, love. Vissen has whipped them all into a frenzy. They are coming tonight; to do what, I don’t know.”

“Then I have to leave.” You looked around the room in sadness. You loved your little home, it was all you needed in life. You had grown up in this home, helped your first patient here. Your parents had built this house when they first arrived at the village. You could feel your heart shattering at the prospect of leaving it behind.

“Where will you go?” Kiala’s voice broke through your reverie. A moment of panic rushed through you at the thought of having nowhere to go.  _ You could come with me _ , Geralt’s voice spoke in your head.

“You remember how I told you about healing a man and that’s how I discovered my magic?” At her nod, you continued. “He is one of my kind as well, another shapeshifter. He offered for me to run with him. I think I will go find him.”

“But how will you know where he is?” As she voiced this thought, you faltered. How would you find him?

“He said he would come back for me in a few days. I will hide in the forest until he gets here.” As you spoke, a sense of sureness filled you, comforting you that the decision you were making was the right one. You glanced out the window; the sun was setting. You needed to get going quickly if they were coming to your house tonight.

Kiala seemed to sense your unease, offering you a sad smile as she stood, pulling you up and into a hug. “Be careful,” she whispered in your ear, “I will try and delay them as long as I can.

You drew back, grabbing your friend’s upper arms in panic. “No! You mustn’t do that, they will only think you are in league with me. I will be fine. But go now, before anyone sees you visiting me.” You drew her back in for another embrace, both of you crying into each other’s shoulders at the prospect of separating. Finally, you drew back and ushered her out your door, wishing her a safe journey home.

After locking your door you stood in the middle of the room, feeling waves of emotions wash over you. Betrayal, panic, heartbreak were just some of the feelings whirling through you. You collapsed to your knees, letting out a scream before breaking down into sobs.

**~*~*~*~**

“There’s a beast in our village! It has been living amongst us, feeding off of us. How are we to know it hasn’t already enslaved us, forced us to do its bidding?”

Vissen paced in front of the crowd of villagers, a torch grasped in his hand. The villagers in front of him murmured, shifting amongst themselves, some gripping various makeshift weapons.

“It's probably replaced our children with it’s own demonic offspring! A beast like that knows nothing other than slaughtering and fighting. I saw it with my own two eyes! It was running through the forest, killing animals left and right! How long until it comes for our livestock? Our homes? We have to drive it out now, before it can do any more damage! Before it can get to our children!”

At this, the villagers started yelling, catcalling, “Kill the beast!” “It can’t stay here!” “We need to protect our children!”

Vissen jumped up onto a nearby cart, lifting his torch high. “To the forest! We'll kill it tonight!” he roared, turning and leading the way up the road to your house.

**~*~*~*~**

You had been packing the last of your things when you heard shouting outside of your house, coming up the path to your gate. You steeled yourself, preparing to try to reason with the people one last time. These were your friends, your family, you couldn’t believe that they had turned on you so quickly. 

Opening the door gently, you stepped outside before blanching at the crowd - no,  _ mob _ **_-_ ** that stood outside your gate. Upon seeing you, they all froze in place. You stared at them, at the weapons in their hands, and felt your heart break a little more.  _ Kiala is right, they have turned on me _ . 

There was a commotion in the crowd before Vissen pushed himself to the front. He spat on the ground by your yard, “Well, bitch? What have you to say for yourself?”

Shocked at his words, you recoiled into yourself. “What have I ever done, Vissen? Any of you, why are you doing this? What do you believe that you come with your torches and your swords?”

The crowd shuffled, falling silent before a shout came from the back.

“You’re a witch! You’ve enslaved our children!”

A chorus of agreement followed those words.

“You’re a beast, you’ll kill us all in our sleep!”

You frantically looked around, searching for a friendly face, for someone that you knew who might be able to help you. You found none, only seeing the smirk on Vissen’s face that slowly grew as the crowd got louder.

You never saw who threw the first rock, but you instinctively ducked out of the way, hearing the window next to you smash. The crowd surged forward as you turned to run, darting for the back of your house to try to escape into the forest.

You didn’t make it three steps before you felt a rock strike you between your shoulder blades, forcing a cry from your throat as you stumbled and fell to the ground. Immediately the mob was on you, hands pulling your hair, striking your arms, shouting curses at you.

Heart beating fast, you curled into a ball as you tucked your arms above your head to try to protect yourself. Tears streaming down your face, you again cried out as you felt a foot connect with your ribs.

The pain forced you deep within yourself, reaching blindly for that warm well of power, it calling and reaching back to you. You dove into it, coating yourself in a feeling of comfort as a wave of warmth surged over you.

When you opened your eyes, the villagers had drawn back from you, the moment of silence broken when Vissen stepped forward.

“See? I told you, she turns into a beast!” he howled, bending down to pick up another rock, slinging at you as he straightened. You whimpered, dancing to the side to avoid the projectile before turning and racing for the woods as you heard the mob come to life behind you.

You could hear the villagers calling for someone to grab you, to hurt you, to kill you. You could feel your heart breaking in your chest, betrayal washing over you, but you forced yourself to continue running, ignoring the pain from where you had been struck.

You dashed through the underbrush, finding a tree with lower branches, digging your claws into the bark, racing up the trunk and onto a branch. Hearing the mob searching through the forest, you lowered yourself to your belly, creeping along the branch to where it passed another one, leading to a taller tree. You crawled over to the junction of a branch and the trunk, just big enough to hold your body.

You collapsed into the space, curling your tail tight around yourself with your ears pressed against your head, shaking as you could hear the villagers running through the trees and shouting to each other.

Finally safe, you allowed yourself to break, the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal washing over you.  _ Geralt was right, they never would have accepted me as I am. They turned so fast, didn’t listen to a word I had to say. Me, who birthed their children, cared for them when they were sick. Me, someone who did all I could to help them and heal them when they were in pain _ .

The exhaustion finally beat the fear, pulling your mind beneath its blanket of darkness as you fell unconscious, finally succumbing to the pain of your various injuries.

**~*~*~*~**

You lay there until the stars were high in the night sky. Heaving yourself into a sitting position, you forced yourself to take stock of your situation. You needed to return to your house to gather what you could. You crept closer to the trunk, slowly descending as you listened for any sign that the mob was still near before taking off towards your home, staying low in the underbrush to avoid detection.

Reaching your house, you shifted back to your human form, staggering at the change, still not used to the difference between forms. Going into your room, you changed out of your dress into a pair of trousers and a tunic that you normally wore for travelling. 

Gathering your most essential belongings you dropped them on your couch before going in search of a bag. As you packed, you glanced at the dagger that Geralt had given to you before strapping it to your waist. You froze at the sound of a door creaking, slowly dragging the dagger from the sheathy you had just placed at your side.

You felt a cloth cover your mouth as a strong arm went around your waist, a bitter smell overcoming your sense. You struggled, kicking at the body behind you as you tried to bite the hand covering your mouth. You reached down into yourself, racing towards that well of power, almost reaching it before you felt your body falling as the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, loves! Like always, kudos and comments help keep me motivated to write! I have a lot planned for this series, but would still appreciate anything you would like to say! Come yell at me on tumblr @stretchkingblog97


	6. The Sorcerer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet the man who has been hunting shapeshifters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its not Saturday, but its close enough and I was excited to post this. Hope you all enjoy!

You woke slowly, your whole body feeling fuzzy, head hurting. You groaned, sitting up as you lifted a hand to your forehead. The smell of tepid water invaded your senses, forcing you the rest of the way awake. You cracked your eyes open and froze, mind refusing to connect the scene in front of you to where you thought you were supposed to be. Suddenly, your memories of the night before came back to you in a blinding rush.

_Kiala coming to warn you, frantic packing, hearing the shouts outside your home, seeing Vissen leading a mob towards you. Friends and family calling for your death, shouting and chasing you. Pain from the blows rained down upon you, shifting, running, hiding, someone help me, please, help, help, help, I don’t want to die-_

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, afraid of what would happen if you let yourself sink too deeply. Looking around, you took in your dark surroundings. You were in a small cell, bars forming one side of the room. There was a small bed and a chamber pot, a chair being the only other furniture in the dreary space. The floors were made out of cold stone, the same as the walls. Hearing footsteps echoing around the space, getting closer, you scrambled backwards until you hit the wall, staying as far away from the door as you could. 

A group of men came into view, dressed in dark clothes and armour, except for one. The man in the middle was dressed in intricate robes, a dark maroon embroidered with black detailings along the sleeves and hems. He stared at you in interest. “This is it?” he asked. 

Your upper lip twitched, upset at being called an it, though you didn’t move. A man pushed his way to the front. “Yes, m’Lord, this is the shapeshifter who has been terrorizing our town.”

Your lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl as you saw who the man was. _Vissen_.

“Good, good,” the first man said absently, tossing a small bag his way. “Here is the rest of your payment.”

Horror flooded you as you realized that Vissen had thrown you out of your home for _money_. A growl slipped out of your mouth at that, causing Vissen to blanche and the other man to smile. 

“It does have teeth.” He gestured, and a guard threw your cell door open, the others rushing in. You were quickly apprehended, though you fought, squirming and trying to land blows to free yourself. It quickly ended with you hanging between two men, a third securing you against his chest as the man in maroon robes glided into the room. The man grabbed your face, turning it to examine your features. You growled at him, wrenching your face out of his grip and slamming your head into the nose of the guard restraining you, fighting to get free.

He laughed, a sharp unpleasant sound, ignoring the cursing of the man behind you. You winced as the guards tightened their grip on your arms, keeping you secure between them. Taking a step back, he looks you up and down, examining every inch. You shiver, his gaze is clinical, as if he doesn’t consider you worthy of feelings. At another gesture from him, you are dropped to the floor, pushing yourself away from the men as soon as you hit the ground.

The guards exit your cell, lingering in the hallway as the man seated himself on the chair. You shrunk against the wall, not liking the way his gaze rested on you. After a drawn out silence, he nodded to himself, relaxing back against his seat.

“Welcome to the new world, little creature.” The drawled nickname rankled you. “You have just become part of the research to further the survival of the human race. Not that you are one, of course.” He laughed, a bitter sound.

“You shapeshifters are the key to healing human diseases. With your regenerative powers and your accelerated healing, we could save thousands.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “If I could just figure out how you do it. But that’s why you are here, little creature, to help me discover just what it is that makes you tick.”

“You may call me Master Astarion, little creature, if you address me at all.” He stood as he said this approaching you. “I will teach you what we expect of you during your stay here, so that you will know to behave.”

“I will do no such thing, you bastard,” you hissed, struggling to your feet. The world spun around you as you tried to evade his grasp. His hand brushed you, causing your whole body to stiffen as a wave of burning heat swept through you. You dropped to the floor, writhing in pain at his feet, tears leaking out of your eyes. He crouched next to you, observing your actions with a clinical disinterest. As the fit subsided, your chest heaved with your desperate gasping, struggling to pull breath into your lungs.

Your screams split the air as he again brushed his hand over you, muttering something under his breath. Lacerations appeared on various parts of your body, skin and muscle splitting to allow the blood within your veins to spill forward, staining your dress and pooling on the cold stone beneath you. Astarion reached into his pocket, staring at you as your back arched off the floor, rigid with pain. It was like nothing you had ever felt, a burning that never ended, setting all of your nerves alight with fire.

“Stop, please, stop, it hurts,” you begged of the man - sorcerer? - who was inflicting this agony upon you. 

“Shhh, I know,” he murmured, almost soothingly. You felt a hand brush down your cheek, but you were in too much pain to care. A pinch to your shoulder caused your eyes to fly open just in time to see the man produce a dagger from his pocket.

In one fluid motion, Astarion buried the dagger into your left shoulder, drawing a choked scream from your throat. Your body slumped, folding in on itself as pain shot out from your shoulder, overwhelming anything else in your body. Sobs wracked your body, breath catching in your throat as you choked on blood, reeling as you tried to deal with the pain surging through your body.

Distantly, you heard the man stand as he brushed his robes off. Stopping in the door, he turned to observe your fallen figure. “Rest up, little creature, I will be back for you soon.” With that he left, the door to your cell clanging shut behind him.

Curling in on yourself, you dissolved into silent tears, pain overshadowing every thought. Absently, you reached for the warm feeling inside of you associated with Geralt, wrapping yourself in the warmth and trying to forget your situation. As you fell into darkness, you thought you could smell Geralt’s distinctive musky scent, an earthy smell underwritten with the flavour of pine and sweat. 

**~*~*~*~**

Busying himself with stripping and packing Yennefer’s tent, Geralt glanced over his shoulder to see Jaskier chasing Ciri across the clearing as her laughter filled the clearing. “Jaskier, are you and Ciri packed? We need to be ready to leave when Yenn gets back. You know how she is about waiting for you when you’ve been goofing off with Ciri and ignoring your tasks.”

Coming to a stop, Jaskier put his hands on his hips, and offered Geralt an offended look. “I am _highly_ offended that you would even suggest that I wouldn’t finish packing before playing. “ He shushed Ciri as she came alongside him. “I am of course ready to go as soon as you are. Why, it's you and Yenn who are slowing us down!”

Geralt’s lips twitched as a black raven set down behind the bard, ignoring the continuous stream of protests coming from him.

“What about the clothes you have left to dry by the river? You are not bringing those?” Yennefer’s voice caused Jaskier to startle as she appeared behind him. Ciri giggled at her sudden appearance. “Seriously Jaskier, we’ve only been here a few days, how could you possibly have lost them already?

“My- what clothes?” Jaskier spluttered.

“We washed some of your doublets yesterday, Jask, don’t you remember? I was going to remind you, but you were too busy complaining.” At Ciri’s words Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, stalking away to retrieve his forgotten clothing, muttering under his breath about stupid Witchers and sorceresses. 

“Did you find the keep, Yenn?” Geralt demanded, turning to the woman as she fixed her dress from her flight.

She looked up, meeting his gaze as she studied him. “I did. I think they have a new shapeshifter they are experimenting on; they brought someone into the keep late last night.” This revelation drew a growl from Geralt. “You have never been so invested before, Geralt. What changed?”

He said nothing as he continued staring at her before looking away. “I don’t know, I just have this feeling that-”

He cut himself off as he staggered, hand flying to clutch at his left shoulder as pain shot through it, as if stabbed. 

“Geralt!” Ciri was immediately at his side, supporting him as he regained his equilibrium, Yennefer also moving towards him.

“I’m ok, my shoulder just burned for a moment.” he reassured her, patting her shoulder as he stood, pulling back his tunic to look at his shoulder, marked with nothing but old scars. He raised his eyes to meet Yennefer’s gaze. She was looking at him with a perturbed expression on her face. 

“What happened?” She reached out to touch his shoulder before hissing as she snatched her hand back as if burned. Stretching her fingers out, she examined them before looking back at her companions, both staring at her with confused expressions. “I felt someone else’s presence there, just for a moment. It felt almost like a…” she trailed off. 

“A what, Yenn?” Ciri inquired, Geralt staring at her with an almost guilty expression on his face. 

“Never mind, Ciri. I thought I felt something but I was wrong, it wasn’t what I thought. Would you mind going to help Jaskier collect his clothes? We need to leave soon.” She smiled gently at the girl as she sent her off after the bard before spinning and pinning Geralt with a glare.

“Geralt! I can’t believe you! Why would you leave that incomplete? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Geralt stared back at Yennefer with an unreadable gaze as she ranted at him. “You should know better! Of all the things you could have done, leaving that unfinished was the absolute worst choice! You could get seriously hurt if anything happened!”

“I didn’t know I had started one!” Geralt stalked away, tension radiating from his posture. “And I know the dangers, Yenn! I wouldn’t have left it unfinished, I would have…” he trailed off as Yennefer came to stand beside him, posture softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“I know, Geralt,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out.”

**~*~*~*~**

You drifted on a haze of pain, never really surfacing, never going under. You could hear voices moving around as you felt yourself being shifted.

“Show me your other form and the pain will stop. Just change, I need to see your demon form, little creature.”

Sobbing, you shook your head. 

The pain increased, back arching, nerves feeling as if they had been set alight. 

You couldn’t give in.

The burning pain came again, screams tearing their way out of your throat, voice breaking. You remember pleading, _no, please, don’t hurt me, I can’t give you what you want, I don’t know what you want, stopstopstopstop. Stop, I want to go home, please stop, please stop, let me go home, ithurtsithurtsithurts._

**_Geralt. Help._ **

Again you reached for that warmth, that string that you felt extending from you, cloaking yourself in its presence. You floated, trying to distance yourself from the pain, time passing as you sheltered within the presence.

“Just change, you little bitch! I need to see your shape shifter form!”

You could feel the knives, the pain, the warm blood pooling beneath your body as it cooled against the stone. Could feel the hands on your skin, _in your skin_ , poking and prodding at you. Diving deep down, you curled your mind around your heart, hiding deep within yourself to escape the pain.

**~*~*~*~**

_Geralt fell to his knees, pain surging through him as Ciri cried out, Yennefer reaching for him, concern in her eyes, Jaskier frozen in place._

**~*~*~*~**

A sharp pain brought you back to awareness, your head spinning with blood loss. “It’s coming around, just give it another moment.”

Astarion’s face swam in your vision before solidifying, a sharp grin on his face. “There it is. Welcome back, little creature.”

You shot up to a sitting position, shuffling backwards until you hit the wall. Astarion was crouched in the middle of the room watching you, now dressed in dark pants and a loose grey tunic. He toyed with a dagger in his hand, the same one that he stabbed you with, you realized. Your hand came up to your shoulder, finding the wound scabbed over and tender to touch. Finding it mostly healed, you scrabbled at your arms, finding the same thing there, that the wounds that have been inflicted on you - hours? days? - before were sealed over, thin pink lines the only evidence they had ever been there.

“It’s quite remarkable isn’t it?” The words jolted you from your thoughts, pulling your attention back to the sorcerer. “A few days and you’re almost as good as new.”

“And just to think you disgusting creatures can heal like that. I don’t understand why _your kind_ have been given this ability and my family had to die.” A sneer pulled his upper lip back from his teeth. “But that is no matter. Soon I will discover what your healing stems from and I will be able to share it with the rest of the human race. No one will have to die needlessly.”

As he said this, he approached you, dagger still in his hand. A tear ran down your face but you didn’t move, too tired to muster the energy. Astarion traced your features with the dagger, your eyes closing as another tear slid down your face. “It’s a shame to ruin such a fine specimen; you have healed exceptionally well, little creature. I will let you rest for now, I need to look over my notes. I will visit you again tomorrow morning, not to worry.” 

Suddenly he struck, burying the dagger in your stomach. Your breath left you as if punched, body curling to protect yourselves from any other blows. At your actions, or lack thereof, Astarion frowned.

“Hmm,” his eyes narrowed, “I thought for sure that would make you change.”

With his last remark, he stood and left your cell, leaving you lying on the floor, shivers wracking your body as the blood cooled beneath you. You reached a shaky hand down to press it against your stomach, hissing when the blade sliced your palm. You lay there for what felt like hours as the blood slowed, scabs starting to form around the wound. You grasped the hilt, yanking it out as you muffled a scream into your shoulder, pressing as hard as you could with both hands.

As the heaviness pressed in closer, you could feel the familiar warmth consume you. You went to it willingly, felt the world _shift._ You opened your eyes to see the world with sharper sight, heaving yourself to a standing position and yelping at the pull in your abdomen. You nosed at your side gently, seeing blood still glistening in your fur; the skin underneath was intact, although irritated and tender.

Lifting your head, you surveyed the room. The coppery scent of blood was strong, tinged with a bitter something underneath, of what you weren’t sure. You wrinkled your nose at it, not liking the smell. You took a hesitant step forward, feeling the slippery stones beneath your paws, coated in your blood. Your wounds pulled, but the pain was bearable. You began exploring the room, limping towards the edge of the room as your left shoulder protested the action.

It was rundown, an old castle that hadn’t seen occupants in decades. You had explored the surrounding area as a child before someone disappeared, after which your town kept well away from it. You knew that some of the outer walls had started falling apart, and hoped that this one was one of them.

Snuffling along the edge of the floor, you caught a whiff of fresh air. Darting towards it, you found a small hole in the wall, enough to allow a breeze into the room. You wouldn’t have noticed it had your senses not been enhanced.

Your heart sunk. There was no way you would fit through that whole, it was far too small for you. Closing your eyes, you nudged at the hole half-heartedly, despairing that you were so close to escaping, but not able to.

As you pushed, you felt some of the wall give way, a rush of air and dust filling the space. You ducked your head, rubbing your eyes on your leg in an attempt to remove the dust from them before observing the space. Although still not big enough, it was closer to your size now. Your heart lifted slightly as you ducked your head to push at the stones again, using your front paws to push the excess material out of the way.

Suddenly, your head pushed through the opening into the forest, your eyes rapidly adjusting to the change in light. It was dark out, a waxing crescent moon hung high in the sky providing little to no illumination.

Pulling yourself back in, you pushed the rest of the material aside, widening the hole enough for your small body to fit through. As you were finishing the opening, you heard footsteps coming down the hall. Shifting back, you slumped against the wall to hide the opening.

Vissen rounded the corner and stopped in front of your cell. You glared at him as you felt hatred bubbling up within you. This man was the reason you were here in the first place, his greed had driven him to do unspeakable things. He leered at you.

“Bet you are regretting rejecting me now, bitch.” Rage swept through you as you realized that he had done this as revenge. You schooled your features, the anger that was boiling within you threatening to spill over. “No words for me? I’m glad I didn’t take you as my wife now, a beast like you could never love anyone. You just maim and murder; I did the town a favour by ridding them of you.”

“You know nothing -” you cut yourself off, stopping your movement as you leaned towards him, hands itching to wrap around his throat.

“What do I not know?” he taunted.

When you didn’t respond, his smirk grew larger. Something sparked in his eyes. “Too tired to move, sweetheart?” Your skin crawled at his words. “Perhaps I will just have to help you.”

Moving slowly, he unlatched your cell, stalking towards where you sat motionless on the floor. _Come a little bit closer, you bastard, and you’ll be able to help me so much more_.

When he was within reach, you leapt, pulling at his arms, hands forcing him to the ground as you reached for this throat. In your weakened state, he quickly overcame you, rolling so that he was pinning you to the ground, hands on your shoulders, hot breath against your neck. “Even if you didn’t want me, I will still have you, my sweet.”

You squirmed as his hands roamed lower, tears burning in the back of your eyes. You fought desperately, reaching for the power within you, covering yourself with it like a blanket, body shrinking as you shifted. You sank your teeth into his hand, gripping as hard as you could, letting go when he started flailing, small body flying through the air to hit the wall. You yelped at the impact, pain flashing through you before you rolled to your feet, shaking your head to clear the fog.

He wailed, clutching his hand to his chest as he rolled to his knees. “You demon!” He froze as you regained your feet, a low growl rumbling out of your chest. “I’ll show you! Guards! Help! She’s changed, she’s - ack!”

At his words you leapt, aiming for his chest. Your weight knocked him to the ground, landing on his chest as you snarled, lips pulled back from your teeth. As Vissen flailed, you jumped forward and ripped his throat out with your teeth. The man slowly went still, gurgling as his death rattle left his chest.

You rolled off his body, going still as you stared at the man choking on his blood. You had killed someone. _I didn’t mean to! Gods, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!_ Staggering to the side, your front legs collapsed as you retched, trying to rid yourself of the taste in your mouth.

Horrified at what you did, you backed away, eyes not leaving the body of the man you once knew. You could hear the shouts and footsteps getting closer. You turned, rushing towards the hole you had made, slipping out of it and disappearing into the night, the sounds of men rising behind you as the body was discovered and a search party organized. As you ran, you tried to forget the taste of copper on your tongue, forget the body you were leaving behind.

**~*~*~*~**

After Geralt had collapsed, Yennefer had insisted that they stop for the night. Geralt had protested at first, but gave in as more waves of pain washed over him. Jaskier had motherhenned the larger man for the rest of the evening, Ciri tucked into his side. Every once in a while Geralt would flinch, and Yennefer would stare at him with a knowing look. Geralt wouldn’t say anything, just staring back, a challenge in his face. 

Once Jaskier and Ciri had fallen asleep, Yennefer gestured at Geralt, the two of them standing and moving a little farther from their fire. 

“What’s her name?” Yennefer fixes him with a piercing look that said he better tell her what was going on or he wouldn’t like the consequences. 

Geralt sighed, running a hand over his face. “Y/N.” His voice was pained, expression tight. “She was a healer that found me in the woods. I had been injured, ambushed by a monster, and when she healed me, she had a conduit moment. I stayed a few days to help her learn more about our kind.”

Yennefer stayed silent, marvelling at the softness that had crept into her companion’s eyes as he spoke. “She was kind, didn’t judge me for being a Witcher or for being a shapeshifter, even before she knew she was one. It was easy with her, it felt _right_ to be with her.” He turned to Yennefer. “It wasn’t intentional, I just… It just happened.” 

“You need to go find her.” Geralt started at Yennefer’s words. “This could harm both of you and something has clearly happened, I’ve seen you flinching all day. Don’t argue with me, Geralt.” She held a hand up as he opened his mouth to protest. “I need you at your best and you aren’t while you’re separated.” 

His body slumped, a sigh escaping from between his lips. “Okay.” His response was quiet. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

Yennefer was surprised; she had expected Geralt to have put up more of a fight on this. This girl really was something if she could make Geralt listen, even when not present. “ **_We_ ** will go tomorrow. We are not separating, Geralt, not this close to the sorcerer. I will not risk any of us.”

Geralt nodded as she turned back towards their camp. He followed her to the fire, laying down on his bedroll as his thoughts turned to you. Your face and voice filled his dreams that night; he could hear you calling out to him. Sleep did not come easily.

The next morning, Jaskier and Ciri were confused when Yennefer told them they were making a stop before they went to the keep where the sorcerer had been hiding, but quickly fell into step when she mentioned something about another shapeshifter. Geralt was even quieter than normal as they travelled, growing more tense the closer they got to their destination. 

When Jaskier started singing, trying to amuse Ciri and annoy Yennefer, Geralt snapped at him to be quiet. When Ciri asked to ride with Geralt on Roach he pulled her up, but only grunted at her questions rather than answering them as he usually did. Realizing the severity of the matter, both Ciri and Jaskier fell quiet, their conversations subdued as they travelled.

It was dark when they arrived, the small pack finally turning a corner to see a little house set back in the woods. Geralt was flinching at anything that spooked him, Roach nervous beneath him, having picked up on her master’s emotions. Reaching the gate, he quickly dismounted, shoulders relaxing as the house appeared to be untouched. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he approached the door, knocking gently to alert you to his presence. “Y/N? It’s me, I’m back.”

“Y/N?” Jaskier whispered, turning to Yennefer. “Who is that?” Ciri popped her head out from behind him, curious as to the answer to her counterpart’s question.

As Yennefer opened her mouth to answer, they heard the sound of a body against wood, the door breaking beneath Geralt’s shoulder as he forced entry to the house, disappearing through the entrance. His three companions quickly ran after him, freezing in the doorway at the sight of Geralt. He was standing motionless in the middle of the trashed room, looking down at something in his hands. Tables and chairs were upturned, books scattered across the floor, 

He turned slowly to look at them, a dagger that they recognized as the twin to his own held in his hands. His face was emotionless, but his eyes told a different story. His golden eyes were full of anguish, a storm of horror and guilt washing through them.

“Geralt?” Yennefer took a hesitant step forward, hand reaching out to do what, she wasn’t sure.

Geralt slowly sunk to the floor, staring at the dagger cradled gently in his hands. At the sound of Yennefer approaching, he lifted his head, face filled with fear.

“She’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. I'm so sorry (not) for the cliffhanger. It will be resolved (kind of) in the next chapter. Come scream at me on tumblr! @stretchkingblog97


	7. The Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astarion continues his research as the pack searches for you.

You could hear the men getting closer as you ran, slowing from the pain of your wounds and the exhaustion from shifting so many times in such a short period. You tripped over a root as you looked back, chest hitting the ground and your body rolling through the underbrush. You scrambled to your feet, heart hammering from fear as you resumed fleeing.

You could hear the shouts getting louder behind you, the baying of a dog as it closed in. You desperately searched for shelter, spotting a low hanging tree branch off to the left. You darted towards it, before pain flared as you were dragged backwards, the dog’s jaws closed on your back leg. Turning, you slashed at the dog’s face, opening wounds across its muzzle. It yelped and dropped you before rushing once more. You dodged to the side, snapping at its shoulder as you moved, opening another laceration with your teeth.

Whimpering, the dog backed off allowing you to rush up the tree, digging your claws into the bark as you cowered against the trunk. The men filled the space behind the dog, carrying weapons and torches, all staring up at you. One of the men called the dog off with a sharp gesture, allowing it to slink to the back of the group. They stared up at you, faces full of malice. One stepped forward, a sword in his hand.

“Come on down, demon. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” You hissed at him in response, pulling your body further into itself, tail wrapped around your small body, ears flat against your head. At your actions, he grinned, baring his teeth. Turning to the man next to him, he gestured at you, “Light it up.”

He stepped forward, laying the torch against the base of the tree. Too late, you realized that the tree you had chosen was long dead, brittle and dry. As the flames caught and climbed its way up the tree, you frantically searched for a way out. None of the trees were close enough for you to jump to, you were trapped.

As the flames grew higher, you could feel the heat licking at your paws. You scrambled to one of the branches, creeping along it, silently praying that it would hold your weight. The men jeered at you from below as you gathered yourself to jump, hoping you could make it.

_ CRACK _

You felt yourself falling as the branch broke beneath you, tumbling to the ground far below. You yelped as you hit, feeling your leg snap beneath you, wound in your side pouring hot blood as it reopened. You lay there stunned, shaken by the fall. All of a sudden, you felt hands on you, gripping your fur and legs. Your vision went white as they touched your broken limb, leaping to your feet, lashing out with your teeth in defence. You felt something tear, warm, coppery liquid filling your mouth as you clamped down on the arm near your injured leg, wrenching your head to the side as you tore a chunk of flesh, hearing the howl of pain from the man at your actions. 

Something struck you in the side of the head and you went limp, pain suffusing every inch of your being. As you lay on the ground, you felt your body being manhandled, turned to your side. “Shit, it's bleeding. The boss said it wasn’t to be harmed.”

Rough hands shoved cloth against your side, a yelp drawn from you as you were jostled, thrown over a shoulder. Your vision faded in and out, time passing in a blur as you tried to manage the pain. You felt the air change, a shiver running through your small form as you entered the stone structure, air cooling off as the guards around headed deeper. You were dropped to the ground, whimper passing your lips as your wounds were jostled. A bitter smell filled the air, mixed with the scent of old blood. Your heart sunk, you were back in your original cell.

“Ah! Such a lovely specimen, such a magnificent colour.” You closed your eyes at the sound of Astarion’s voice. “I haven’t seen your kind before, such a rare subspecies of fox. This is so exciting!”

Curling into yourself, you took a deep breath before rolling to your feet, keeping your injured front leg off the ground, lips pulling back at the sight of the sorcerer. He looked delighted, hands clasped in front of him, excitement on his face. “This will be so informative, I will be able to do so much research with you.” His face turned vicious. “Especially now that I know how to make you change.”

Your ears pulled back at that, teeth bared as a low growl rumbled out of your chest. Your tail stood straight out behind you, knees bent as you were prepared to defend yourself. He studied you, eyes sweeping your side as he observed your lifted leg, a thoughtful look on his face. “We won’t start today, sweet, I’ll let you heal first. It will give me a better baseline of how exactly your healing works. You’ve had an exciting night, get some rest and we will get started tomorrow.”

With that, he turned and swept out of your cell, door clanging shut behind you. Limping into the corner, you curled up with your back to the stone wall, eyes closing as you let the darkness of unconsciousness wash over you.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt looked at Yennefer, heartbreak clear on his face. She laid a hand on his arm, face full of sympathy. She knew what it felt like, losing someone you cared about. Her mate had been taken from her too soon, killed during a raid on a shape shifter village. It still felt like yesterday, holding the empty shell that used to be the love of her life. The agony, the loss, the pain that came with knowing she would never see them again. She knew the agony of losing a mate and she never wanted Geralt to have to experience that. 

“We’ll find her,” her grip tightened on his arm, forcing the man to look at her. “I swear to you, Geralt, I won’t stop until she’s back with us.”

Ciri and Jaskier approached the pair, the former latching on to Geralt’s waist. Jaskier spoke quietly, “You have our teeth and our claws as well. We are with you no matter what.”

Geralt was silent for a moment, before his posture sagged. “Thank you,” his voice was soft, full of pain. “I will be forever in your debt.”

“Never,” Yennefer spoke, “This is what family does. Now, let’s go find a shapeshifter.”

**~*~*~*~**

Astarion had returned the next day to find you in your human form. You had stood to meet him, defiance clear in your face. He had scowled at you, clearly displeased that you were no longer a fox. He didn’t say anything as he approached you, driving a fist into your stomach as he grabbed your broken arm, pressing on the bone. A scream tore from your lips as the heat that came with your shift washed over you, leaving you curled on the floor, tail tucked in close. He had laughed, delighted to finally have access to his research. He had taken samples of almost everything, fur, skin, muscle, blood. 

He would leave you on the ground after he was done, telling you to rest up and he would be back tomorrow. Each time you shifted back, but it was getting harder to do so. Everytime you shifted to your animal form, it took longer for you to find the power inside you, almost as if it was hiding from you. When he came back the next morning he would just send a guard in, telling them to beat you until you shifted. You tried to hold out, you really did, but it just became instinctual to curl in on yourself in order to avoid the hurt. Other times he would use spells and knives, would have you writhing and screaming before you finally gave in, shifting to your animal form. 

It had been days, you think. You weren’t really sure, time passed oddly in this place. You drifted, almost as if you were having an out of body experience. You started counting the numbers of visits you received from Astarion in an attempt to pass the time. It broke up the haze of pain that you lived in, listening to him ramble. He would tell you about his research, how he was looking for a spell or a potion that was easily dispensed so that no one would die needlessly. He knew the key was hidden in your abilities, shapeshifters healed the fastest and could survive more grievous wounds than humans, and he was determined to find it. 

You don’t know what caused it, but one day you woke up in an even worse state than you normally did. You had accepted the pain at this point, almost expecting it as part of your daily routine, but today you had had enough. 

When Astarion came for his normal visit, he again sent a guard in. This time though, you were ready. You had found a sharp rock in the wall last night, and had spent hours honing it to an edge against the stone. As he approached you, you could feel the heavy weight in your hand, hidden behind your back. You stood firm, not shying away as the man approached you. 

He saw this, saw the defiance in your eyes. He smirked, asking “You want to play today, eh?”

You didn’t respond, only gripping your weapon tighter. As he stepped into your reach, you lunged forwards, burying the stone in his neck before pulling it back, allowing his blood to spill forth. He staggered backwards, one arm reaching for the wall to support himself before collapsing to his knees as his other hand came up to press on the wound, blood bubbling from his lips. You turned to face the rest of the guards as they rushed in, stabbing at the hands that reached for you. Another guard drew back with a howl, a man stepping forward to take his place. You could feel the blows landing on your body, but you didn’t care. Your rage overwhelmed everything, removing the pain that had been your constant companion. You lashed out with disregard for your injured limb, arm protesting the movement. You had healed, yes, but it was not completely back to normal.

The guards began to overwhelm you, stunning you as they threw you to the floor, head bouncing against the stone. You curled into a ball, arms over your head to protect it, flashbacks of your village flying through your mind. The pain, the fear was back, overwhelming your every sense. 

In your desperation, you reached for that string that seemed to lead to Geralt, taking it and wrapping it around your soul in an attempt to hide, to heal, to do what you weren’t sure. All you knew was that it had helped protect you before, had helped to take the pain away. You could almost feel his presence, it was almost as if he was standing next to you, protecting you, soothing the pain that ravaged your body. You could sense him, could sense his frustration, which quickly turned to shock and surprise.  **_Help_ ** , you pushed at him, sending your desperation and hurt, your  _ fear _ towards him.

You could feel a touch against your skin, almost as if he was embracing you, protecting you from the men who continued to rain down blows on you. You could feel your skin split under the impact, but it was quickly taken away, soothed as if a gentle cloth was washing over your skin, the pain melting away like soap washed away after bathing. You cried out as you felt your ribs snap from a kick, reaching with your mind, reaching for that thread that connected you to the Witcher. You felt him reach back, entwining your souls together as he sheltered you from the pain. 

A warm feeling washed over you, filling every part of your being with a sense of _belonging_. It whispered to you in a low voice, _let me in, I can help_. You instinctively relaxed, you knew this presence. It had helped you before, and would again. As you let yourself fall into the feeling, you could feel Geralt falling with you, wrapping around each other as you went. As you fell into darkness, you could feel power surging through you. You looked for somewhere to send it, finding a shadowed figure filled with _pain, hurt, blood, someone was hurt, you needed to help them_. You were a healer, it was second nature for you to push the power towards it, telling it _to_ _soothe, to heal_ as you finally succumbed to the tug.

**~*~*~*~**

The pack had been travelling for days, having to stop everytime Geralt would falter, pain blooming across his face. The Witcher was frustrated, he was used to pain, but what he was feeling was increased tenfold. He knew why, and the thought filled him with terror. He had to push on, to find her, to protect her, there was nothing else for him to do. He needed to stop the hurt that she was experiencing, the terror that leaked through as she went through what, Geralt didn’t know. 

Jaskier and Ciri had begged Yennefer to do something to help the man, to take away the pain she was feeling, but every time they asked she just shook her head, a sad look on her face before moving towards Geralt, herbs to soothe the pain in her hands. As soon as he was ready they would leave again, the Witcher determined to not let anything delay him from reaching you. On the fourth day since they had reached your house, a week and a half since he had left you initially, something changed. 

Geralt felt a burst of warmth surge through him, stopping him in his tracks. “Geralt?” he distantly heard Yennefer calling his name but he was unable to respond. He was suddenly overwhelmed with  _ fear, pain, desperation _ , forcing any other thought out of his head. He could feel you, could feel your presence. You were calling to him, pleading with him to save you. Blindly, he reached back, wrapping you in his presence, pulling the pain out of your body and into his. 

A grunt left his mouth as his knees gave out, fingers curling into the dirt as another surge of pain came through. He could feel a hand on his arm but he couldn’t tell whose it was. He had no idea who was in front of him, where he was, what was happening, all he knew was that you were in pain and he needed to help you. Gently, he pulled your soul against his, putting his mind between yours and the pain he could feel rippling through you. You nestled against his heart; the warmth he had felt earlier was coming from you. 

**_Do you trust me?_ **

**_Of course._ **

He took the string that connected the two of you and wrapped it around his heart, his mind, and his soul, gently nudging at your own as he did. 

**_Let me in, I can help._ **

Immediately your mind opened to him, sharing everything you were with him. Geralt paused, astounded at the trust you had immediately given to him, astounded that you had bared yourself to him so willingly. As he tied the string around you, he gently pushed at your mind, guiding you to the darkness that waited patiently below, welcoming you into its soft embrace, a space free of pain and fear. As its arms reached out to envelope you, a wave of power burst out of you, pushing Geralt back to awareness. 

His eyes opened to see his pack on their knees in front of him, Jaskier holding Ciri against him as tears silently ran down her face, Yennefer with her hand on the Witcher’s arm. Slowly, he raised his head, seeing the terror in Yennefer’s eyes as he met her gaze. 

“I know where she is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Like always, feel free to come yell at me on tumblr! @stretchkingblog97
> 
> Kudos and reblogs are always appreciated! Or talk at me in the comments.


	8. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astarion is delight to discover your true nature. The pack begins it hunt.

A sharp pain brought you back to awareness as you lifted your hand to your neck. Your fingers felt something warm and sticky, your breath catching in your throat as you pulled them away to see blood coating your fingers. You hadn’t been wounded on your neck, where was the blood and pain coming from? 

_You remembered striking, burying the stone in the guard’s neck, feeling the hot blood spray from his neck as it covered your hands, running down to stain his tunic. You remembered the power that had surged through you before you collapsed, remembered directing it to the_ **_pain_ ** _, wanting to help, to heal._

Again your hand lifted, finding the wound at the same place you had injured the guard. You thought back to when you had healed Geralt, waking up to find new scars on your side. Maybe this was part of your powers, you healed others by taking the wound onto yourself. You struggled to sit up, feeling the warm blood trickle slowly down your neck, bleeding into the cloth on your chest. 

A sound drew your attention outside of yourself. You looked up to find Astarion staring at you, a delighted look on his face. His expression unnerved you, his happiness was always associated with pain and hurt for you. 

“You’re a healer,” he breathed. “This is amazing, you’re exactly what I’m looking for. I’ve always found fighters or strategists, you’re the first healer I’ve studied. Someone like you could have saved my family from dying.”

As he spoke, he stood and started pacing, hands waving excitedly in the air. “That wound would have killed him, but you, you will be fine! You will heal and be on your feet in no time. You could have taken the sickness that killed my mother, my siblings. You could have saved my father when he was attacked by your wretched kind. None of my spells could, they were too complex, needed too much energy. But your healing ability wouldn’t need that much. You saved a man from death, and it only cost you a few moments of consciousness. Once I find where your power comes from, no one will die needlessly!”

Your heart sunk as he continued his manic rambling, speaking about how he would be able to save humankind, how you were the answer to all of his questions. Despair filled you, devouring every other emotion and leaving a bleak void in its place. You weren’t getting out of here alive, not unless someone came to get you. And no one would. Your friends had turned on you, your family dead. No one knew where you were. You were all alone. 

The world shrunk, all that you knew was your pain and your despair, nothing else mattered. You would die here, that you were certain of. As Astarion left your cell, you curled into yourself on the floor, tears running down your face. You let yourself fall into darkness, your only escape from the hell that was your present. 

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt pushed his pack hard, no longer hampered by waves of pain. The lack of hurt worried him, feeling only exhaustion and misery leaking from you, a bleak emotional landscape full of hopelessness. He tried to push hope back to you, but any attempt to reach you was blocked. 

As the days pass, the pack slowly loses speed, Geralt growing increasingly frustrated at their lack of progress. Yennefer finally snaps at him as they are gathered around their campfire. 

“Geralt, we can’t keep going at this pace!” Geralt glowered at her as she spoke, not acknowledging her words. “Ciri is exhausted, and the rest of us are close behind! Just slow down a little bit, we will still get there.”

The large man didn’t look up, refusing to discuss any changes to the fast pace he had started off with. “If Ciri gets tired, she can ride on my back. We need to move fast.” 

Yennefer scoffed, “And the rest of us? What happens when we can’t keep up? Are you just going to leave us behind? And what about when we get there? Geralt, we need to have the strength to actually be able to defend ourselves. Or are you just sending us to our deaths?”

Geralt rounded on her, “She’s dying, Yennefer!” he roared. “Every day I can feel her slowly getting weaker! She won’t respond to me anymore, she’s given up. I can _feel_ her fading; she won’t last much longer.”

His chest heaved from his outbreak, fear glistening in his eyes. The camp was silent, Yennefer lowering her eyes at his words. With a growl, Geralt spun and stalked away into the woods, dropping into his wolf form as he took off running. Yennefer drew a hand over her face, a sigh escaping her lips. 

“Who are we searching for, Aunt Yen?” Ciri nestled herself into Yennefer’s side, looking up at her with wide eyes. “I know it’s another shapeshifter, but Papa seems so worried.”

Yennefer stared down at Ciri, violet eyes concerned. At last, she looked away as she responded in a quiet voice. “Sometimes shapeshifters find people who they have an instant connection with. Y/N helped your papa when he got hurt while he was away, and they have one of those bonds.”

Ciri was staring at her with wide eyes, Jaskier trying to look as if he wasn’t eavesdropping on the other side of the fire. Yennefer managed a wan smile at the two of them. “You’ll have to ask Geralt if you want to know more, though. For now, we should get some sleep though.” 

Yennefer ignored the sounds of protest as she stood, ushering Ciri off to her bedroll, Jaskier close behind. She tucked the blanket around her, smoothing her hair off the child’s forehead as she placed a gentle kiss on her head. “Will Papa be back soon?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, he just needed to run for a bit. You will see him in the morning.” The sorceress placed a gentle hand on Ciri’s cheek, pushing a gentle sleep suggestion at her. She sat with the young girl until her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out before getting up and finding her own bedroll, setting a spell to alert her when Geralt returned to camp. 

**~*~*~*~**

The pain continued, though you no longer felt Geralt’s presence. It was getting harder and harder to return to your human form after a change was forced upon you. You’d given up hope of rescue after overhearing two guards as they passed your cell. 

“It’s been two weeks since the most recent one got here, which means we’ll probably be looking for a new one soon.”

“Yeah, they don’t last much longer than that. Just look at it, it’s stopped moving. We don’t have to beat it as much to get it to change.”

You had been in your fox form at that point and you hadn’t moved as they walked past. You lifted your head to glare at them, pulling your lips back from your teeth as a weak growl rumbled out of your chest. They had laughed and kept walking, leaving you behind as your heart sunk, laying your head down on the floor and closing your eyes, letting the defeat that had been gnawing at your edges sweep over you. 

You didn’t bother changing back to your human form; you weren’t sure that you even could if you had wanted to, you were so tired. Astarion entered your cell early that morning, guards posted at the door as he entered in case you decided to attack. 

You lifted your head mournfully, ears pressed against your skull, but other than that you didn’t move. Astarion grinned sharply. “Ah, finally. Your spirit is broken, my sweet. You’ve realized you have nowhere to run and no one is coming to save you.”

Your thoughts briefly turned to Geralt before you scolded yourself sharply. No one was coming to save you, you were on your own. This was where you were going to die. You remained passive as the sorcerer manhandled you, a whimper passing your lips as you felt the knife pierce your skin. 

Astarion shushed you, a hand stroking your fur possessively as you squeezed your eyes shut. “You were so strong, my sweet, you did so well. I have done so much research, learned so much from you. Your contribution to my studies is greatly appreciated.” You yowled as you felt a bone in your front right paw snapped, the pain shooting up your leg into your shoulder. You collapsed as the man continued speaking. “The pain will end soon, little creature. I am almost done with you and then you can rest.”

You fell into a haze of pain, the words fading into the background as you let yourself drift. The only coherent thought you had before you fell into the familiar darkness should have frightened you, but it didn’t. The phrase repeated itself over and over again, consuming any other thought you had. _Please just let me die_.

**~*~*~*~**

The pack had stopped for a brief lunch, a companionable silence falling over the clearing. They had been moving fast, though not as fast as when they first started out. Geralt had realized Jaskier and Ciri couldn’t keep up with him and had adjusted his pace. This didn’t ease his worry though; he had tried reaching out to you again, only to be rebuffed. The pain you were experiencing had only grown, blocking any attempt he made to reach you.

**_Please just let me die._ **

Geralt shot to his feet as fear flashed through him. The others stared at him as he threw things into their bag with no regard as to where they landed before slinging it over his back. 

Yennefer spoke first, concerned at the frantic motions coming from the Witcher. “Geralt, what happened?” Her tone was urgent, breaking through the haze of panic that had consumed the man. 

“She wants to die; she won’t live through the night.” he managed to get out, gesturing at Ciri to stand. “We have to run, we have to save her. Quickly, shift. We must go.”

At his words, the other three flew into action. Geralt fell forward as he shifted into a white wolf, a golden lion cub falling into place beside him. Yennefer shrunk into a black raven, flying high in the sky to scout as a honey badger pulled itself onto the back of the wolf, winding its claws into the silver fur to secure itself. 

Geralt looked at Jaskier on his back, receiving a nod before turning to Ciri who was growling low in her throat, claws kneading the ground as she waited to run. The wolf threw his head back as he howled, the lion next to him adding her voice to create a discordant sound. The forest around them went silent as the predators began their hunt, their fast lope eating up the ground beneath them. 

They ran for hours before finally arriving at the dark clearing that housed the keep. It was an intimidating structure, towers reaching high into the sky, grey stone framed against the skyline. The pack could see guards scattered around the entrance and along the roof. Staying low in the trees, the honey badger leapt off the wolf’s back before the two animals were replaced with the figures of Geralt and Jaskier. Ciri quickly followed, creeping into the underbrush to watch the dark structure as Yennefer, in her raven form, looped back from over the keep, landing and shifting back to her human form. 

They stayed silent, waiting for her to approach. The keep was mere meters away, the forest having been allowed to reclaim its stolen space as the years passed. As she regained her equilibrium, the small group quickly shed their extra gear, cinching their armour tighter and ensuring their weapons were within easy reach. 

“There’s definitely a shapeshifter in there,” she spoke as soon as she had knelt next to the two men. “I can hear a faster heartbeat, it’s not a man’s rhythm. That must be her.” 

Geralt shifted, staying silent as Yennefer continued to speak. “We should be able to enter through the back gate, it’s not as heavily guarded. That’s where they’re keeping her as well. I think she’s on a lower floor; we might even be able to find a closer entrance.”

As Geralt opened his mouth to answer, a scream tore through the silence. The Witcher went rigid, a look of utter terror crossing his face. Before anyone could react, he shot out of the treeline with a roar, sword seeming to leap from its sheath to his hand as he raced towards the guards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're about halfway done, babes! Hope you're enjoying!
> 
> As usual, feel free to come yell at me on tumblr! @stretchkingblog97
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Tell me what you thought!


	9. The Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack will stop at nothing to get you back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random midweek update! You can thank my friend Lu for pestering me to post it.

As your screams echo in his ears, Geralt sees red. The sound of your distress ignites a feral rage in his core that swiftly overcomes anything that dares to come between him and the entrance, anything that keeps him from getting to you. He could feel your pain and despair leaking through your bond and it only fueled him more. Your soul called out to him to save you, to help you. You may have given up, but there was a small part that still desperately fought to live, to wait for him. 

Geralt roared as he smashed into the guards; he could hear the sounds of his pack following behind him. The men in front of him rallied after his first attack. Four men stood fast in front of the gate as a fifth ran to raise the alarm, the sixth guard crumpled on the ground after meeting Geralt’s blade. He raised his sword, a feral grin on his face as the soldiers paled, shifting nervously as he stalked towards them. 

The first two men charge out to meet him, swords raised high. The Witcher slashes the first across the chest, the man dropping to the ground with a cry of pain. Bringing his blade around, Geralt met the second man’s strike, holding fast as a low growl emitted from his chest. He could see the guard swallow nervously before disengaging, striking hard and fast, sword singing through the air as it bit from shoulder to hip, disabling the man. Geralt pushed him to the side as he continued towards the last four guards. 

Ciri appeared at his side, a grimace on her face as her sword leapt to catch the blade of the rightmost guard, Yennefer meeting the leftmost with her dagger. One of the guards broke rank and ran as Geralt engaged the last man, reversing his sword to slam the hilt into the man’s stomach, knocking his breath out of him. The guard slid down the wall as Geralt snatched a dagger from his hip, striking so the blade went through the man’s leg into the ground, pinning him as he howled in pain. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ciri dispatch her opponent as she separated his head from his body. She slowed, wiping her blade on the man’s tunic before returning her sword to its sheath. Yennefer did the same, finishing her strike with her dagger buried in the man’s heart, a feral grin on her face. Satisfied his companions were in no immediate danger, he lowered his body so that he was level with the remaining guard’s head. He stared at him, golden eyes almost glowing in the darkness as the guard cursed at him, trying to free himself of the dagger’s bite.

“The shapeshifter. Where is she?” Geralt’s voice was low and ominous, grating through the air as he held himself in check, aware that they needed a plan of attack to take the fortress. 

The man cursed at him, fidgeting before Geralt reached out and pushed the dagger further into the ground, stilling the man’s actions as he howled in pain. He settled for glaring at the trio, chest heaving as he gasped for air.

“I’ll give you one more chance: answer my question, or I’m done asking nicely. And you  _ really  _ won’t like what happens then,” he promised with a feral grin. The sound of his voice was like nails grating on a chalkboard, sending unpleasant shivers down the man’s spine. The man stared at him, eyes wide in horror. Yennefer knelt down beside Geralt, the sweetest smile on her face. Her violet eyes met the man’s blue gaze and he paled further. Distantly, Geralt noted that he hadn’t thought the man could lose any more colour but had apparently been proven wrong. His lips pulled back from his teeth as he felt you cry out, soul nuzzling against his. He tried to soothe you, pushing hope at you, but was again rebuffed, pain overwhelming every aspect of your consciousness. 

The snarl that appeared on Geralt’s face was the last straw for the man as he broke, information streaming out of him as he babbled at them, desperate to get away from the frightening pair in front of him. Letting Yennefer decipher the stream of words spilling from the man on the ground, Geralt turned to Ciri as he released a piercing whistle, signalling that it was safe for Jaskier to join them. His eyes searched the younger girl, looking for any sign of injuries. She stood still for the examination before bouncing over to Jaskier as he joined the trio, snarl a permanent fixture on her face. 

Yennefer joined the group as well, Geralt sparing a glance to see the man slumped against the walls, glassy eyes signalling an end to his life. All eyes turned to the sorceress as she spoke. “Y/N is in the dungeons on the lower floor; the keep is built into the hill so part of it is exposed. There’s another entrance on the other side of the keep. The sorcerer’s study is on the second floor, where he’s done all his research. Hopefully that will be where we find him.”

Low snarls echoed in the space around them, all shapeshifters displeased at the mention of the man who had been hunting their kind. Geralt stepped up to lay out the roles each person had.

“Yennefer, you and I will go find this sorcerer and deal with his ‘research’, as he calls it. Ciri, Jaskier, you two find Y/N and guard her, make sure no one can get to her or get her out of this keep. Once Yen and I are done we will come find you and get the fuck out of here. Any questions?”

The other three shook their heads before Ciri and Jaskier shifted, a lion and honey badger standing in their places. Jaskier lifted his head, searching for the distinctive scent of their kind. The pair took off, racing around the dark structure as they followed the scent that would lead them to the lone shapeshifter they came to rescue. Geralt watched them go, conflict clear in his eyes.

Yennefer placed a hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to her. “They’ll be fine. They’ll find her easily and will lay low until we can get there. The sooner we deal with this sorcerer, the sooner we can get back to them.”

Geralt swallowed harshly before nodding, the knot in his chest only tightening as he turned away from the direction his heart was telling him to follow. The pair entered the gates, blades held tightly in their hands as they waited for the next wave of guards to crash upon them. They found a dark hallway, moving slowly with senses on high alert for any indication of an attack as they searched for a staircase. Geralt strained his ears, hearing the sound of metal clanging on metal as a group of five guards rounded the corner to run straight into Geralt’s blade. Two men were soon lying on the floor, meeting their ends at the hand of the Witcher and the sorceress before the rest of the small group was aware of their presence. The three remaining men backed up quickly, forming into an arrow formation, swords held high against the shapeshifters. Yennefer darted forward, long dagger flicking out to bite into the leftmost guard’s shoulder, drawing a cry from him as she leapt back, avoiding the answering slash. The front man thrust towards them, Geralt whirling to the side to avoid the blade as he fell forward, a white wolf leaping at the men as he shifts.

He bowls into the small group, knocking the two in front of him to the ground as the third steps out of the way, engaging Yennefer behind him. He can hear the ringing of metal on metal as she defends herself against the guard. He refocuses on the men around him, one trying to regain his feet as the other is struggling beneath his paws. He snaps at the man, tearing his throat out before rolling to the side, ignoring the sparks that leap from the sword striking stone, missing him by inches. The man in front of him pales as Geralt allows a low growl to rumble out of his throat, filling the air as he hears a body collapse to the ground behind him. Yennefer’s heartbeat still thrums in his ears, so he keeps his attention on the man in front of him. He takes one step towards the guard before the man breaks, dropping his sword as he turns to run back down the hallway. 

Geralt pauses, sending a glance back over his shoulder to find Yennefer staring at him with one eyebrow arched. She gestures at the retreating man and the wolf takes off, following him down the hallway. The guard is pounding on a door, yelling to be let in as Geralt approaches. He pauses as he bunches his powerful muscles before he leaps, hitting the man in the chest as he turns to meet him, wide eyes filled with horror. The man slumps beneath him, the taste of hot copper filling Geralt’s mouth as he tore into him. He rolls off the body, turning to examine the door.

Sauntering up behind him, Yennefer spoke a word and pointed at the locked door. Under her hands, the wood splintered before exploding backwards, killing anyone behind it. Geralt leapt through the aftermath, tearing up the stairs that the door had hidden. He used his massive body to knock the soldiers off the structures, sending them plummeting to the ground below. Yennefer was forming intricate symbols with her hands, forcing men to crumple to their knees, slitting their throats as she walked past.

Geralt raced to the next floor, snarling the entire way. He leapt at the last man, his weight bringing them both to the floor, the guard’s head slamming against the ground; blood oozed from the back of his skull, forming a puddle under his head. Geralt rolled to his feet as the man remained motionless. He dropped down to his haunches, waiting for Yennefer to join him at the top of the stairs and ignoring the blood soaking into his paws. 

The wolf inclined his head to the sorceress, indicating that she should lead the way through the door. Yennefer rolled her eyes at him as she passed the Witcher, laying a hand on the handle to unlock it. Geralt followed her into the hallway, finding it empty. As he passed over the threshold, the smell of blood hit him. He visibly balked before glancing at Yennefer, seeing her nose wrinkled as well. Closing his eyes, Geralt reached deep within himself, pulling the magic over himself like a blanket as he shifted back to his human form. 

“You smell it too.” His deep voice rumbled through the silence, echoing off the stone. Yennefer nodded at his words, too wary to respond. The pair followed the scent down the hall, dread growing as it got stronger, seeming to come from under the last door. As they got closer, other scents started to mix in; the most prevalent ones were fear and pain. They paused before the door, hearing low murmurs coming from behind the wood. 

They looked at each other, silently communicating with their eyes before Geralt dropped his shoulder, slamming it into the door and forcing it open. They burst through into the room, Geralt drawing his sword and stabbing into the first guard that rushed them as Yennefer ducked under a blow from the second, slashing at his legs before following up with a strike to his chest as he fell. Silence fell on the room, broken by a slow clap.

They looked to the end of the room, finding a man lounging across a chair wearing dark maroon robes. The room was full of various little trinkets and other things Geralt didn’t care to identify. A long table sat in front of the chair, covered in papers filled with notes and drawings. Shelves lined the walls, vials and books covering every inch of available space. The scent that they had followed permeated the room, the smell of death and suffering overwhelming their senses as they observed the space. Their focus was returned to the man at the end of the room as he laughed, a sharp sound that echoed around the small space.

He grinned up at them, a cruel smile adorning his face. Standing, he spread his arms wide. “Welcome to my study. My name is Master Astarion. Have you come to pledge yourself to my cause?”

A growl ripped its way out of Geralt’s throat, Yennefer stiffening beside him. “I see no cause,” the Witcher spat, “I see only pain and suffering, death, misery. There is  _ nothing _ good happening here. You are destroying my kind with what you do, and I will not let it stand!” 

Geralt’s tone rose in volume, until he was roaring at the sorcerer who was responsible for so much death. The grin slid off his face, a scowl taking its place. “Destroy? Like you destroyed my family? It was your kind who murdered my father, your kind who took away our only chance of survival, who killed the rest of my family! It was  _ you _ ! You who made me leave, you who made sure I wasn’t there to heal him, you who didn’t save my sister from the sickness that took her life!”

He spat to the side. “No, it is not me who is destroying anything, it is you and your lowly kind. Once I’ve found my cure, I’ll eradicate you and the other shapeshifters. No one will have to feel the pain of losing their entire family to you. No one will feel the pain I have ever again.”

The low growl that had been emanating from Geralt’s throat slowly grew louder. He took a step towards the sorcerer, his presence seeming to grow larger as Yennefer stalked to the other side of the table. Leaning forward, Astarion gripped the hilt of a sword, his other hand pulling the sheath off before throwing it back on the wood. Geralt’s hand darted to his shoulder in response, unsheathing the iron blade that lived there. 

The sorcerer sneered. “If you won’t willingly join me, I guess I’ll just have to kill you in order to study you. At least your measly existence will be somewhat useful.”   
  


Geralt sneered back, “I’d like to see you try.”

The sorcerer lifted his sword above his head, rushing towards Yennefer, assuming she was the weaker prey. A feral grin appeared on Geralt’s face at this as the sorceress merely swayed out of the way of the blade, brushing a hand against him as he went. The man spun around, face frozen in an expression of shock as his sword hung loose in his grip.

“What did you do?” he demanded, tone harsh.

Yennefer laughed cruelly. “Only what needed to be done. Seven days I curse you, a mere man you shall be.”

His eyes narrowed as he drew a complicated symbol in the air. Geralt shifted his weight, expecting a burst of power, glancing over to see Yennefer watching the sorcerer with a vicious look of glee on her face. As his face betrayed his frustration and shock at his failure to cast a spell, a harsh laugh again burst from the sorceress’ lips.

“You bitch! You’ve stolen my magic!” His eyes narrowed at her. “Give it back,” he growled. Enraged, Astarion frantically swiped at Yennefer, her own blade darting up to meet his with a ringing clash. Geralt rushed forwards, dropping his shoulder into the man’s back as Yennefer stepped sideways, opening a cut down the man’s arm as he passed her. The Witcher continued his rush, Astarion twisting to get away from the larger man. As the Witcher turned to face him, he brought his sword low towards the sorcerer, hoping to open a wound on his leg. The other man met his blow, grimacing as he struggled against Geralt’s overwhelming strength. He slowly lost ground, heels digging into the stone to push back against the shape shifter. 

The sorcerer glanced desperately at the window, shoving back against Geralt, surprising the Witcher with his desperate bid as he raced for the opening. Geralt was quickly after him, a blow to the back of his head sending the man staggering as he crashed through the glass onto the balcony behind it. Geralt followed him out, sword biting into his robes as Astarion rolled out of the way. He was up and on his feet, grabbing a stone statuette from the railing before he launched it at the Witcher. He was up and over the railing, taking the advantage of Geralt’s hesitation as he dodged the projectile. The Witcher grinned as he approached, the stupid man had put himself into an impossible position. He raised his sword, preparing for the final blow, muscles tensing in anticipation of his downswing.

A burst of panic overwhelmed Geralt’s mind, sending him staggering as he missed his final strike. His sword bit into Astarion’s shoulder, drawing a cry from the man’s lips as his hands slipped, sending the sorcerer tumbling to the ground below. He rolled to a stop just outside of the treeline, laying there briefly before pushing himself to his feet and disappearing into the woods. 

Yennefer was at Geralt’s side in an instant, concern in her face. “She’s panicking, Yen. Something’s happened, I can feel it.”

“I know, we’ll go find her in a moment. But for now, we need to search his study, find out if he has any other holdouts. We can’t lose him, Geralt, he’ll keep hurting our kind until he’s dealt with. Jask and Ciri will be with her, trust them.”

He hesitated briefly before nodding. Yennefer went straight to the table, looking through the various papers that were spread out across its surface. Geralt examined the shelves, picking up and looking into various vials to see what they contained. His stomach turned in revulsion as disgust rose into his throat. The bottles were full of samples; pieces of fur, various kinds of teeth, blood. Any tissue that could be harvested was there, the scent of fear and pain clinging to them even after they had been dried and preserved.

Geralt turned away from them, breathing hard through his nose as he clenched a fist at his side, trying to control his anger. He heard Yennefer call him from the table, worry only increasing at her apprehensive tone. Joining the sorceress, his breath caught in his throat as he realized just what was outlined on the table.

It was you.

There were sketches of your dimensions, showing your figure, your measurements, detailing your bone structure. His stomach threatened to rebel at the last drawing as he thought of what they had to have done to be able to draw that. There were notes outlining what injuries you had sustained and how long they took to heal. Records of samples taken and when. A small bundle of fur caught his attention. His hand darted out to snatch it, motions stilling as your scent emanated from the disrupted paper. It was so distinctively you, but tinged with the scent of your fear; the scent of your pain almost overwhelming anything else in the room. The contents on the paper was a sketch of your human form with small notes made around it. He scanned it briefly, it detailed the injuries that you had sustained that had triggered your shift. Geralt felt sick, revulsion rising in his gut as he realized what you had gone through. With a snarl, Geralt dropped the paper and snatched up another, scanning the contents before he did the same with a third.

As he continued reading, the rage that had been simmering in his chest was quickly stoked to an inferno, consuming any rational thought in his head. With a roar, he gripped the edge of the table and flipped it, arm lashing out to knock the vials off of the shelves. The sound of shattering glass ignited a fierce sense of pleasure in him, spurring his actions on as he continued to ravage the room. He left nothing on the walls, emptied every table, every set of drawers until any information was a tattered mess on the floor.

Yennefer was watching him with wary eyes as he turned to her, chest heaving with the exertion of his outburst. He narrowed his eyes at her, yellow irises turned golden with rage. When he spoke, his voice was low, an avalanche waiting for the one push that would set it tumbling down the slope, destroying everything in its path. “Burn it to the ground.”

A feral grin sprouted on her face. “With pleasure.”

Not waiting to see her actions, Geralt spun on his heel and headed for the door. In the hallway he paused, listening for any sounds that might indicate guards still lying in wait for him. Hearing nothing, he stalked down the hallway, the scent of burning paper beginning to fill his nose as Yennefer set to her task with glee. Geralt quickly made his way down the stairs, meeting no resistance along the way. Anyone who had been in the keep had either fled or been killed. 

As he exited the staircase into the dungeons, his steps stuttered, your scent overwhelming his senses. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, letting you wash over him, soothing the rough edges that had formed since he had left you. He quickly turned to the left, following the sound of Jaskier’s voice. As he approached, Ciri appeared in a doorway; seeing him, she strode quickly towards him with a frown. 

“Papa, please, you need to listen to me before you go in, she’s not-” Geralt spared her a tense smile, cupping her cheek before gently moving her to the side as he cut her off. He froze as he came into view of the cell. Jaskier was on his knees in the middle of the room, crooning gently to a fox cowering in the corner. He quickly took in the state of the cell; the blood stains on the floor, the tools against the stone, the repaired wall to the back, the way the fox shook. He could see your ribs, could see half healed wounds underneath your fur, the way you held your front leg off the ground and his heart stopped. 

As he approached Jaskier, the man glanced at him but kept the steady stream of gentle words that fell from his lips going. Geralt could see thin lines of red running down his forearms. You had clawed him. The Witcher gently touched them as he looked at the bard; he received a slight head shake and a wan smile in return as the crooning continued. Geralt returned his attention to you, focusing on your tail between your legs as you kept your ears tucked against your skull, lips pulled back from your teeth as a low growl rumbled out of your chest.

Lowering himself to his knees, he crept towards you, keeping his body language open and his posture small. You shrunk back against the wall as he approached, causing Geralt to freeze at your actions. He spoke in a gentle voice, hoping to soothe you. “Y/N, it's okay now. It's me, I came to find you. Lets go now.”

As his voice reached you your growl grew in strength, lips pulling back from your teeth even more. You snapped your teeth at him as he tried to reach for you, Geralt snatching his hand back in horror.  _ Something was wrong _ . He reached out with his mind to you, trying to get a sense of your emotions. Now that you were closer, he was able to get a better feeling from you, but in your state all that he was able to understand was a jumble of thoughts and feelings that whirled around your head.

_ Notrealnothim - this is a trick - HELP ME - ithurtsithurtsithurts- let me go, please - i just want to die - it isn’t him, it couldn’t be him - wakeupwakeup - won't change back, he’ll kill me - he won’t come for you - PAIN - Geralt, please - ijustwanttodie ijustwanttodie ijustwanttodie _

Geralt recoiled into himself, not realizing there were tears running down his face as he spun to look at Yennefer, having arrived in time to see you snap at him. Ciri, who was now sitting with Jaskier, halted her movements as she reached for the Witcher, the bard drawing her closer to him. The colour drained from the older woman’s skin as she saw Geralt’s face, saw the desperation and fear that was on it. 

“She thinks this isn’t real, Yen. You need to do something. Get rid of the damn spell.” Geralt's voice broke as he pleaded with her, needing to fix this. 

Yennefer closed her eyes briefly, brow furrowing as she searched the room for telltale signs of magic. She could feel old traces of it in the air, flinching away from the pain that accompanied it, but she couldn’t find anything active. She slowly opened them and watched as Geralt’s face fell at the expression on hers. She spoke in a whisper. “There is no spell.”

Geralt closed his eyes in despair at her words. “No, no, that’s not true. She can’t think this isn’t real, she, she has to know it’s me. She has to know _I came back for her._ _I can’t lose her, Yen_. You have to do something.” 

He was begging at this point, desperate for anything that would fix you, that would make you be alright. The guilt of leaving you sat on his chest, eating away at his heart as he turned his attention back to you. You had backed yourself further into the corner during their conversation, unnerved by the harsh words. You had curled into yourself, presenting a smaller target as you tucked your tail around your side and in front of your chest in an attempt to make yourself seem less threatening. 

Geralt crumbled as he stared at you, unable to think, unable to come up with a solution that would fix this problem. He sighed, turning back to his pack. Jaskier and Ciri were sat together, leaning into each other as they drew strength from their counterpart, waiting anxiously for their leader’s decision. Yennefer lingered by the doorway, guilt on her face at the thought that she couldn’t fix this either.

Geralt spoke in a low voice, unable to meet any of their eyes. “Set it alight, Yen. Burn this fucking hell hole to the ground.”

“What about-” Yennefer cut herself off as the Witcher turned back to you, heartbreak clear on his face.

“I’ll carry her, make sure she gets out.” The thought of betraying your trust like that, of possibly hurting you sent knives through him, but he had to do it. As Yennefer muttered incantations under her breath behind him, Geralt closed his eyes and reached for that mantle of power, covering himself in it. He felt the world shift and opened his eyes to see sharper colours with his enhanced senses. In this form he could see your injuries with greater detail, and the guilt eating away at him grew. It was his fault you were in this situation in the first place. He couldn’t protect you and now you were hurt because of it. 

As Yennefer announced she was ready, he approached you, heart breaking at the sight of you shrinking away from him. You screamed at him as he bent towards you, teeth snapping at his muzzle. Trying to be gentle, he batted you away, wincing as the scent of fear that had already been in the air grew stronger at his actions. He pressed you into the ground, closing his muzzle around the scruff at your neck as he gently lifted you into the air. You struggled for a little while longer before going limp, body becoming a dead weight hanging from his mouth.

Panicked, he set you down, a whimper escaping him as he nudged you with his nose. He could see your chest rising and falling as a distant part of him pointed out the fact that he could see all of your ribs through your fur. He pushed that, and the guilt, to the back of his mind, focusing on your heartbeat, faint as it was, consoling himself with the fact that it was still regular. Gathering you again, he lifted you by your scruff as he turned to look at the rest of his pack. A lion, a honey badger, and a raven waited for him. 

As he moved towards the door, the raven flew over to a crack in the wall and placed the ball of light hanging from her beak there. As she did, a vivid blue flame sprung from it, racing up the stones to the ceiling as the shape shifters left the room, racing for the stairs. Geralt was careful not to swing you, but still moved with urgency. He could smell the acrid smoke filling the air as the stone burned from the unnatural flame. The pack burst out of the keep and raced for the forest, leaving the burning stone behind them, the flames highlighted as the structure was framed against the dark night sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, come yell at me in the comments or on tumblr! @whitewolfandthefox
> 
> Kudos are also appreciated! I love the encouragement :)


	10. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt desperately tries to convince you this is real in order to start your healing.

You wake up feeling rested, more so than you have for the last two weeks. This alone puts you on edge. You can smell fresh air, can hear the sounds of nature all around you; it all feels so peaceful. This only adds to your concern. This can’t be real. **  
**

Your whole body goes rigid as you hear wood snapping in the distance, anticipating the next trick from Astarion, the next experiment he has planned in pursuit of ‘the cure’ for humanity. You slit your eyes to take in your surroundings, muzzle opening in a yawn as you do so. You freeze as the sights around you finally register. You were no longer in the dark stone cell; instead, there was a cloth canvas above the bed that you were lying in. You were still in your fox form, laying curled on the blankets. As you glanced around, you could see three other beds in the corners of the tent that you seemed to be in, with a table in the middle.

You inhale cautiously, scenting for any clues that might tell you where you are and what’s going on. The tent has a strong scent of gooseberries and lilac, an unfamiliar combination. You couldn’t smell the oil that the guards used to treat their armour, something that often pervaded your senses, but that didn’t mean Astarion hadn’t tried another one of his tricks. You remembered his last one, making it seem like someone had come to rescue you. You remembered seeing a lion and a badger take out the guards in front of your cell before they turned into humans. Your heart had risen at the sight of them, hope gathering in your chest, before you caught a sour smell wafting into your cell, a scent you associated with pain and suffering. 

_You remember ripping yourself away from the blue eyed man in front of you, clawing at his arms and drawing blood as he reaches for you. The next thing you know you’re curled into the corner as the man croons at you, trying to draw you out. Your mind is whirling at a mile a minute, trying to decipher this cruel trick your captor is playing on you. Your days had fallen into a rhythm, what changed, why was this different?_

_It gets worse when Geralt walks in. You’re positive Astarion is in your mind now. How else would he know about the man? He tries to talk to you but you force yourself not to listen, force yourself to snap at him, when he reaches for you, even though it breaks your heart. You lose it when he picks you up, fighting to get free before your exhaustion and pain breaks through, pulling you kicking and screaming into unconsciousness._

You don’t remember anything else after that, only waking up here, still in whatever landscape the sorcerer has concocted to trick you. You gingerly get to your feet, hissing when you try to put weight on your injured front paw, snatching it back up to hold the injured limb by your chest. You limp over to the edge of the bed, trying to get an idea of where you are, and hoping that it will be short enough for you to jump. Your heart sinks as you reach the edge, it’s far too high for you to jump with only three legs to catch yourself; you’d only injure yourself more. Looking around the room, you see nothing to indicate where you are. There are various pieces of armour, some vaguely familiar to you but you have no idea why. The table in the middle has a map on it, but you can’t make out any of the notes to see where you might be. 

Making your way back to the middle of the bed, you lower yourself carefully to your haunches as you strain your ears to make out any sounds. You can hear the low crackle of a campfire, the sounds of someone trodding quietly through the grass accompanied by the sound of low voices and laughter. The footsteps come to a halt near the tent followed by a low thump. You shift nervously, the sounds being so close putting you on edge. What chills your blood is the sound that comes next. 

You hear the sound of a sword slithering out of its sheath before a whetstone runs over it. You’ve heard that sound before, heard it as Astarion walked into your cell grinning, right before he buried the dagger deep into your skin. Your heart stops as the memory washes over you before picking up, breath accelerating to match your heart rate. You stagger backwards, whimpering as you put pressure on your broken leg, the injury giving out beneath you as you crash to the blanket beneath you. You hear the sound of running footsteps, which only adds to your terror. You leap to your feet, backing up towards the head of the bed as you heard the fabric of the tent brushing against itself as it was pulled back to reveal the young woman from the night before.

She was quickly pushed aside to reveal Geralt, panic on his face. A small part of you relaxed at the sight of him before you shook yourself, shoving your body further up the bed in an attempt to get away. You crushed the flare of hope that appeared in your chest, you couldn’t let yourself be caught up in Astarion’s trickery.

_He’ll never leave me alone, it’s a trick, GET OUT OF MY HEAD_

Fake-Geralt’s face pinched as you screamed silently. He turned slightly to murmur something to the people around him; you could see the other man from the keep behind him, and a woman with violet eyes watching you. The younger woman nodded before turning and disappearing, pulling the brown-haired man with her as the other woman vanished from your view as well. Fake-Geralt turned back to you, a soft look on his face. You hissed at him, your fur standing on end as you refused to back down, his face falling at your actions.

You watched silently as the man you had desperately been hoping to see crossed the room to settle in a chair next to the table, the fabric falling closed behind him. You made a note of where the door seemed to be, the Witcher hallucination wasn’t in your path, you were quick to realize. If this was a trick, why would Astarion leave your escape open? Your attention was quickly drawn back to fake-Geralt as he leaned forward, spreading his hands to appear non-threatening.

“Y/N, I know you think this isn’t real.” You balked at that. “I know you gave up on ever escaping, but you did. I promise you, I came to get you.” He spoke in a low voice, almost seeming to croon to you. You bared your teeth more, you wouldn’t fall for this madness. “You need to believe me, I never would have left had I thought you were a target. I came back for you, little fox, like I promised I would.”

At the sound of your nickname, you caught yourself, hesitating slightly. That was one thing Astarion had never called you. Monster, creature, sweet, but never little fox, only Geralt had ever coined that for you. The man in the chair caught your change in posture, hope creeping into his eyes. He slowly knelt from the chair, shuffling nearer to the bed when you didn’t react to him getting closer. 

“It’s me, little fox, my little fox. I’d never hurt you.” He kept moving closer, encouraged by your lack of defense. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, little one.”

He reached the bed, starting to rise but freezing when you flinched away, still not sure about what was happening. His gaze grew sad as he watched the shivers running through your body. 

“What can I say to prove it’s me?” He looked at you sharply. “You remember the night we met, little fox? How I was injured? Do you remember where those scars were?”

You dropped your chin slightly in a nod. You remembered the scars on his chest, the twins to your own. At your agreement, his hand crept to the hem of his tunic, slowly lifting it to reveal the four silvery scars that decorated his side. The healer in you admired the neatness of the injury: they had healed well, they looked months old rather than weeks. You’d never told Astarion of your conduit moment, no matter how many times he’d asked. He wouldn’t know, _couldn’t_ know. Maybe, just maybe, this was real. 

Encouraged, you took a hesitant step forward, a whimper escaping you as your injured leg brushed against the bed. Fake(?)Geralt flinched at this, hands seeming to dart in your direction as he dropped his shirt, before halting his motion, golden eyes glimmering with emotion. He gestured in your direction. “Can I see?”

Slowly, you backed away to the centre of the bed, fake(?)Geralt not daring to move. As you settled yourself in the middle of the blanket, you laid your head down and let out a mournful sigh, hoping he would understand your intentions. The man slowly moved, rising to sit on the side of the bed before reaching for you, stopping just shy of your fur. You hesitantly lifted your muzzle, smelling the skin he offered you. As you inhaled, the scent that filled your nose was overwhelmingly Geralt. 

You stared at him, searching his eyes, searching his face, looking for any signs that would contradict what your senses were screaming at you. This was _right_. You _knew_ this wasn’t a trick, it had to be him. Hoping against hope, you slowly dropped your head, pushing your ears into his palm, nuzzling against his hand. A tentative grin appeared on his face just before you closed your eyes, pushing harder into him as he scratched behind your ears, a whimper falling from you as your reality crashed over you. As you finally made contact with his skin, a feeling of comfort returned, reaffirming what you knew, Geralt was in front of you, _he had come back for you._

Bunching your muscles, you launched yourself at his chest, ignoring the flash of pain that spiked through your leg at the movement. He quickly caught you, tucking your small body against him as he cradled you in his arms, murmuring nonsense to you as you tried to shove yourself closer to his body. He stroked your fur as he shifted further onto the bed, settling himself with his back against the headboard. As you calmed, he gently pushed you into his lap, keeping a hand curled gently in your fur as he gently examined your injured leg. You winced as his fingers brushed the leg, pain flaring regardless of how gentle he was trying to be. 

A gentle tap on your muzzle brought your attention upwards, a hesitant look on Geralt’s face as he looked down at you. “I need Yennefer to look at your leg, little fox. Is that okay? I will be right here the whole time, I won’t leave you.”

You shifted nervously, stilling as your motions brought the wounds you had sustained forward. You had forgotten about them in your panic, and later, elation. Geralt waited patiently as you turned the question over in your head, before you finally nodded, nudging your head back into his hand for comfort.

Maintaining a steady hand curled into your fur, the Witcher softly called for the sorceress. It was a brief moment before the violet eyed woman you’d seen earlier appeared in the doorway. Geralt continued running a hand down your back, soothing you as your fur raised slightly. The woman didn’t approach, sending a soft look your way before glancing up at the man behind you. 

“This is Yennefer, I spoke of her earlier. She’s a sorceress, but she’s going to take a look at your leg. I know she’s not a healer like you, but she can help with the pain and help set it until we can look after it better.” Geralt’s voice grounded you, kept you steady as you continued to stare at the woman across the room. “I think her leg is broken. Would you mind taking a look at it?”

Yennefer nodded, slowly making her way across the room to pick up a leather bag before settling herself and it in front of you. She smiled gently, violet eyes observing you carefully. “Let’s take a look at you, shall we? I’m just going to put my hand on your head to see what we’ve got, and then I’ll set and wrap your leg.”

You closed your eyes, holding yourself back as the woman in front of you gently placed her hand on your head, muttering quietly under her breath. You felt a warm feeling run through you, causing you to squirm in discomfort, but Geralt’s gentle touch soothed you, helping you settle down once more. Yennefer spoke above you, startling you as you started to drift. 

“There’s nothing overly concerning. A lot of half healed wounds and some bruising, and of course, her leg. She will need to rest and eat, regain her strength before she’ll be back on her feet.” Yennefer reached for the bag next to her, withdrawing a small piece of wood and several bandages. Setting those on the bed, she reached for your leg, drawing a low growl from you as she manipulated the limb. Geralt shushed you as Yennefer offered you an apologetic glance, one hand supporting the break as the other reached out to grab the bandages she had set aside to start wrapping.

Task done, she gently set your leg down as she sat back. Now free, Geralt gathered you back into his arms, settling you against his chest as you relaxed into him. You started to feel heavy, the stress of the past few weeks catching up with you now that you were in a safe environment, protected by the man who held you in his arms. Yennefer whispered something under her breath, brushing a hand down your snout, causing your eyes to close, sleep pulling you under. 

Geralt watched your chest rise and fall, content now that you were back with him. Yennefer stood, glancing down at the two of you with soft eyes. “I’m going to go join Jask and Ciri; you should come out in a bit. There is a lot we need to discuss.”

Geralt hummed his agreement, keeping his gaze locked on you. He could hear Yennefer leave the tent, the slight raise in volume as Ciri and Jaskier demanded answers from the woman. He returned his full attention to you, shifting a hand so that he could stroke behind your ears. You made a soft sound in your sleep, nuzzling your snout into his hand. He could feel his heart soften, the knot that had lived in his chest the past week loosening before it dissolved entirely at the sound of your steady heartbeat in his ears. It anchored him, the world seeming right now that you were back in his arms.

**~*~*~*~**

After laying you in his bed, Geralt left the tent and joined the trio at the campfire. They fell silent as he emerged from the tent, Jaskier and Ciri’s eager faces watching him as he made his way across the clearing. As he lowered himself onto the log next to Ciri, she tucked herself into his side. She looked up at Geralt, a concerned whisper slipping from her. “Is she ok, Papa? She’s not hurt?”

Geralt gently brushed a hand through her hair, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear. “She’s still hurt, but she’ll be okay. She needs a lot of rest and healing before she’s back to normal. She will need some help from us until she’s better.”

“Can I go see her? I could bring her some supper.” Ciri perked up at the thought of being useful, wanting to help the shapeshifter that had seemed to capture Geralt. She was interested in meeting you, anxious to have another companion. 

“Slow down there, cub, she’s just gone to sleep.” Geralt was quick to stop his daughter from standing and scampering into the tent, grabbing a fistful of the back of her shirt to slow her down. Pouting, she sat back down on the log, staring into the fire. “You’ll get your chance tomorrow, Ciri, but we’ll need to take it slow. She wasn’t doing well and has been through a lot; she won’t be comfortable with us yet. Hell, she thought I wasn’t real until just now. I don’t know what happened to her to make her think that, but we need to be careful with her.”

Yennefer was nodding as the Witcher spoke, picking up when he stopped speaking. “I think Jaskier should be the first one we introduce her to.”

She ignored Jaskier’s squeak of “me?” and Ciri’s protests, raising her voice over the two of them. “Jaskier’s animal form is the least intimidating and the closest in size, other than mine, and she’s already met me. Jaskier, you’re also the least intimidating, not that that’s a bad thing,” she grinned at his frown. “You’re better for these sorts of things, you’ll make her feel the most comfortable out of all of us.”

“What about me?” Ciri burst out, upset that she was being told she couldn’t meet you. “I’m not intimidating at all!”

She was surprised at the laugh her sentence drew out of Jaskier and Yennefer, Geralt smiling at the ground next to her. “What?

“You’ve grown recently, cub, and you’ve put on muscle from your lessons with the big bad Wolf over there, you’re not exactly a picture of innocence anymore. You’ve gotten a little feral.” Jaskier grinned at Ciri as she glared at him.

“The overgrown weasel over there speaks the truth, Ness. You’ve started to take after your Papa.” Yennefer commented, sending a small smirk at Jaskier as he sputtered at the name.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at the mage, trying to decide if she was complimenting or insulting the pair. Yennefer turned her grin on the father-daughter pair before sobering. “We need to talk about your bond though, Geralt.”

He stared at her, facing dropping into a mask. “There’s nothing to talk about, Yen.”

She sighed at the Witcher as Ciri screwed her face up in confusion, “What bond, Aunt Yen?”

The older woman shot a glance at Geralt. Seeing that he wasn’t going to explain, Yennefer asked her a question back. “What do you know of mating bonds, Ciri?”

The girl in question shook her head as she answered. “I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know much.”

Yennefer settled in, ignoring the glare the Witcher was sending her direction. “They’re rare, but not unheard of. Mainly because we are such a small population, and so well hidden. Legend has it that they are a gift from the gods, a recognition of the suffering our kind has endured.”

Ciri was staring at her aunt with rapt attention as Jaskier listened in. He was familiar with the legend, having heard it before, but always enjoyed listening to the story again. Yennefer settled in, eyes softening as she began her tale.

_There was a group of magical humans who had been favoured by the gods, gifted with the ability to shapeshift as a show of their affections. They knew the rest of their village would have thrown them out had they discovered their ability, already wary of their magic. The group kept their other forms secret, meeting only at night, practicing and exploring their new skills._

_In this group, there was a couple, Renos and Kelath of Toderas, who were deeply in love, having met young and staying together ever since. Other couples looked up to them; they had a wonderful relationship, respect flowering between them. This went on for many years, and it was discovered that their children who had magic also held the ability to shapeshift. The gods favoured other groups, the young who had adventured came back with stories of other clans, hiding amongst the humans as well._

_They were content, their clan growing and their children safe. Everything changed when a human followed them into the woods one night and saw their transformations. He told the rest of the villagers, and the next night that they gathered, the villagers attacked. They resorted to violence out of fear, not understanding the differences between our two kinds. The clan scattered, parents falling to the villagers’ blades as they protected their children._

_Renos and Kelath were separated during the attack. They searched for each other in the madness, but were unable to find each other. Kelath was struck down in the chaos, managing to get away into the forest before collapsing. It was there that Renos found their lover, heart breaking as they held their motionless form, lifeblood slowly leaking out of their wound. As Kelath’s eyes slowly closed, Renos begged the gods not to separate them, to allow them to remain together even in death._

_Taking pity on the couple, the gods bound their souls together, forming the first mating bond. As the bond was completed, Renos could feel their energy draining as the colour returned to Kelath’s body. As their lover’s eyes fluttered open, Renos embraced Kelath, silently thanking the gods for their mercy. The two lived for many more years, sheltering the young of their kind as they helped raise and teach the next several generations._

_This was the first instance of a mating bond, another gift the gods had bestowed upon our kind. And it was the first of many. There was no discrimination between mates, race, gender, age had no effect on who was paired together. The souls that were meant to be together will always be drawn to each other, as dictated by fate._

As Yennefer fell silent, Ciri was staring up at her with a look of awe on her face. “That’s beautiful,” she whispered, shuffling towards the older woman. “Do you have a mate, Aunt Yen?”

Yennefer’s face fell briefly before she smiled gently down at the girl, stroking her hair as she curled into her legs. “No, cub, I don’t. I had a mate, but that’s a story for another time.”

Noticing her aunt’s mood, she quickly changed directions. “Will you ever get another one?” 

“No, young one. When our kind mate, it’s for life.” Yennefer managed a wan smile. Sensing the shift in her mood, Jaskier pulled Ciri’s attention to himself.

“I don’t either,” Jaskier commented before a grin came over his face. “But Geralt does.”

Ciri spun in excitement before deflating at Geralt’s “No, I don’t.”

“But Papa, you deserve someone! And you obviously really like Y/N, otherwise we wouldn’t have gone to get her as fast as we did.” Ciri flounced over to Geralt, dropping herself at her feet.

Geralt stared at his daughter, trying to read her face before he slowly answered. “I’m just fine, Ciri. I have my family here. And I would rescue any shapeshifter if they needed help, just as you should.”

Feeling Jaskier’s and Yennefer’s gazes on him, Geralt stood, tugging Ciri up behind him. “Bedtime for cubs now. Let’s go, young one.”

Ignoring Ciri’s protests, he herded her towards the tent, pausing at the entrance to send an unreadable glance at the remaining two shapeshifters. As the fabric dropped down behind him, Yennefer and Jaskier looked at each other.

“He’s only going to end up hurting himself.” Jaskier started, attention turning back to the fire in front of him.

“Both of them,” Yennefer’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “If he’s going to ignore this, it won’t end well.”

Moving closer, the bard slung his arm across the mage’s shoulders. “I know, Yen, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Comments and kudos are appreciated as always :) Come yell at me in the comments or on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox


	11. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You work on your recovery, getting to know the pack as you heal. Geralt makes a startling discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for missing a week. I got some really bad news last week and just couldn't find it in me to write this chapter in time. But here it is!

You awoke feeling tense, instinctively guarding against an imaginary blow before you relaxed, a sense of security sweeping over you as you recognized Geralt’s scent in your nose. Relishing in the safety, you burrowed deeper into the warmth surrounding you, muscles relaxing completely. You whined as you heard a chuckle coming from above you before the arms you were in tightened, a hand carding through the fur on your head. You slowly opened one eye to see Geralt looking down at you, a soft smile on his face. He was reclined with his back against the headboard of the bed you were resting in, you half in his lap, half on his chest. 

You pushed your head against his hand, a pleased rumbling sound coming out of your chest. The two of you stayed this way for an indeterminate amount of time, content to bask in each other’s closeness. Eventually you felt a hand tap your muzzle, Geralt’s silent ask for your attention. You raised your head to meet his gaze, golden eyes soft but filled with a mixture of relief and worry. 

“Can you change back?” You stared at Geralt for a moment before the words registered. At the thought of returning to your human form a wave of fear and panic overcame you, forcing you back to that terrible stone cell.  _ Change, you bitch! _ You curled into yourself, flinching when a hand came to rest between your shoulders. It brushed against your fur before it was lifted, relief filling you at the lack of pain. You flinched again when the hand repeated the motion, before realizing it was following a pattern. You came back to the room you were in as you realized the hand was stroking you, fingers running through your fur. You whimpered, the sound breaking as you burrowed back into Geralt’s lap. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” the Witcher murmured, continuing to run his fingers down your back. “Take your time, only change when you feel ready.”

You hummed, slowly lifting your head to take in the room now that you were awake. It was the same as the last time you were awake, although two of the beds were now rumpled, clothes strewn around one. Geralt watched you carefully as you stood, keeping your injured leg clear of the surface. You stayed motionless as you got used to the feeling of standing again, assessing yourself now that you had had some time to heal. You felt better; your leg had only a dull ache while your muscles felt sore. It wasn’t the sharp burning pain you were used to, and you hoped that meant you were healing. You limped towards the edge of the bed, freezing when you heard footsteps from outside the door of the tent, the smell of orange and oil wafting towards you. 

You forced yourself to relax.  _ You’re safe here, you don’t need to be afraid. _ You glanced over your shoulder at Geralt, seeing him relaxed against the headboard but watching you carefully. You limped back over to him, sniffling as you pushed your head against his arm. He lifted his limb at your silent request, allowing you to clamber back into his lap, helping you settle yourself as you kept your paw pulled in close. You looked up at him, a question in your eyes. He sighed and grinned ruefully. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?”

You blinked at him owlishly, waiting for the question you knew was coming. “Would you be okay to meet one of my pack? I promise I’ll stay with you the whole time, and it will only be as long as you are comfortable. When you’re done, just tap my knee with your paw, and I’ll send him out.” 

You thought over his request, debating if you were ready to meet someone else. You felt safe and warm; you knew Geralt wouldn’t allow anything to happen to you. You nodded sharply, resolving you would at least meet them. You weren’t sure how long you would be okay for, but you would try. Geralt had waited a moment after your nod, making sure you were fine with this before looking towards the door and raising his voice. “Jaskier.”

A head with brown hair popped into the tent, a brilliant smile on his face. The rest of him quickly followed, bouncing over to the chair by the table. Part of you noticed that again, an escape was left open to you. When the man spoke, his voice was at odds with his behaviour, remaining soft and soothing. “My dear Y/N, I am so glad to finally meet you. It’s good to see you safe.”

He seemed genuine, and you relaxed after having unconsciously tensed. As you looked closer, you realized it was the same man from the keep, the man you had clawed. A wave of shame surged through you; he had tried to help you and you had repaid his help by attacking him. You gazed at his forearms, trying to see the injuries. He followed your gaze, seeming to realize what you were looking for. His hands reached for his sleeves, rolling them as he asked, “Can I come closer to show you?” 

You hesitated, glancing up at Geralt before looking back at the man, no,  _ Jaskier _ , you remembered Geralt calling him. You slowly nodded, watching suspiciously as he slowly approached. He perched on the end of the bed, staying as far away as he could before turning his forearms towards you. You stood, limping a step closer as you left the safety of the Witcher’s lap. You stretched your neck, scenting the air for blood. You found none, just the orange and oil from earlier, mixed with an undertone of a scent you associated with Geralt. You remembered something he said the night you met, something about a particular smell. This must be what he meant, Jaskier must also be a shapeshifter. Feeling slightly more confident, you took another step forward. Jaskier held utterly still, keeping his palms open as you approached him. 

When you were close enough to touch, you lifted your nose, smelling his palms as you held yourself stiff. You didn’t feel in danger, the man in front of you smelt pleasant, none of the bitter smells from the keep present in his scent. In a bold move, you pushed your muzzle underneath his hand, shoving his arm up and towards him. A spark jumped between you as you made contact with his skin, causing you to leap backwards, your body held to flee as you watched him. You stared at him, fur standing on end as a playful growl rippled out of your throat. Shock filled his eyes before a sly grin came over his face. He reached out, tapping your snout before closing his eyes. 

You watched curiously as the man seemed to shrink, fur covering him as he sprouted fangs and claws. You blinked as you came face to face with a honey badger, sitting on the edge of the bed where Jaskier had been. The shapeshifter scent was stronger now that he had shifted, excitement filling you now that you were face to face with another of your kind. You yipped, tail swaying in the air as you bounded towards the animal, glee filling you as he leapt to the side. You landed awkwardly, balancing on three legs as a growl rumbled out of your chest. Jaskier barked at you, darting forward to swipe at you. You danced sideways, yelping as you stumbled and fell, the badger quick to leaping you, pinning you to the bed. You shrieked as you felt him land on you, wriggling to get out from underneath his weight. The two of you tussled, rolling across the bed in a flurry of claws and teeth. 

You felt a hand grab you by the scruff as another grabbed Jaskier, pulling the two of you apart. You hung from the grip, panting from the exertion. The badger offered you a toothy grin before growing, Jaskier sat on the bed with Geralt’s hand grasping the back of his collar. You snuck a look at Geralt to see him frowning in the other’s direction. “She needs to be resting.”

Jaskier laughed, a high and clear sound that drew you in. You chattered at Geralt, upset he ruined your fun. He turned the glare on you, trying to stay stern and failing as you kept chattering at him, wriggling in his grasp as you brought a soft smile appearing on his face. He deposited you in his lap, being careful not to jostle your paw. You nestled in, humming as you settled back into his warmth. Jaskier held his hands up, grin clear on his face. “I got it, I got it, I’ll be careful. I have some composing to do, I want to memorialize this last battle. Y/N, would you mind if I stayed in here while I wrote? Ciri is in a very excitable mood right now.”

You startled as Jaskier directed the question towards you, pulling you out of the doze you had fallen into. You stretched, kneading the cloth in front of you before flipping to your back, a low purr rumbling out of your throat as your eyes closed once more. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You could hear the grin in his voice as you cracked an eyelid to stare at him, a growl interrupting your purring before you continued as Geralt started to rub your exposed belly. You dozed for the next few hours, feeling the ache in your limbs slowly dissipate as the Witcher gently rubbed your muscles, working the kinks out of them. Jaskier’s voice was quiet in the background, the soft music from his lute only adding to the lure of sleep. You only surfaced from your haze at the sound of growling, your stomach making you aware of its demands. You could feel Geralt shaking as he struggled to suppress his laughter. The music cut off as Jaskier stopped playing. You rolled to your stomach, eyes opening to see Jaskier pinning the Witcher with an inquisitive stare.

“I think she’s hungry,” you could hear the mirth in Geralt’s voice. You rolled to your feet, gently closing your jaw on his hand in response. Geralt tapped your nose in response, causing you to sneeze and recoil. Jaskier chortled at your actions as he stood, reverently placing his lute onto a stand next to what you assumed was his bed. 

“Come on, I think Yen caught a couple of rabbits today to put in the stew and Ciri was insistent that she was making bread.” Stopping by the bed, Jaskier ruffled the fur on your head before continuing to the door. He stopped and shot you a grin before exiting the tent. You could feel unease churning in your gut as you felt Geralt’s gaze settle on you. 

“I can bring you food here if you want,” he offered in a soft voice, holding you to no expectations. You shifted nervously, debating what you wanted to do before walking over to the edge of the bed. You stood there, staring down at the floor before looking over your shoulder to chirp at the man.

His face softened at your antics. “Are you sure?”

You hesitated briefly before nodding, wanting to go meet the last member of his pack. You had met Yennefer already, she seemed nice enough, and you liked Jaskier. You were curious about the last person. You remembered a young woman with hair so blonde it was almost white; she couldn’t be as intimidating as Yennefer, from what Jaskier had been saying.

Geralt let a smile come over his features before he got to his feet, groaning as he went. You looked back to the floor, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t as far as it looked. As you bunched your muscles preparing to leap, you felt large hands sweep you off the bed. You let out a squeak before you were secured against a chest, an arm underneath your belly while another was tucked against your side. You turned your head to glare up at Geralt only to see he wasn’t looking at you. Seeing the amusement in his eyes, you nudged his arm and growled to voice your displeasure. He still wouldn’t look at you, moving towards the tent as he kept you in his grasp. 

As he exited the tent, a wave of different aromas hit your nose. You could smell what must be the rabbit stew, the spices filling your senses as you fought to not drool all over Geralt. The scent of fresh bread was mixed in as well, only strengthening as you looked towards the fire to see the black haired woman from earlier pulling a charcoal darkened loaf out of the fire. You squirmed in the Witcher’s arms, fighting to be put down so you could go investigate. He tightened his embrace, causing you to grumble quietly before settling into his arms at his silent request. You looked around the small space, seeing Jaskier pulling bowls and spoons out of a pack leant against a tree. There were several horses grazing on the far end, you recognized Roach amongst them. What you didn’t see was the other member of their pack, Ciri, your mind offered.

Just as you came to this conclusion, you saw a mostly grown lion pad out of the trees. You went tense at the sight of the predator, wary but not afraid when no one else reacted. You sniffed cautiously, testing your theory. You could smell the orange and oil of Jaskier, the lilac and gooseberry that Yennefer had smelt of yesterday, as well as Geralt’s smell. Underneath those a new scent reached your nose, a mixture of the shapeshifter scent and rosemary and apples. You relaxed at that, realizing Ciri’s other form must be a lion. 

Your theory was only proved as the large animal moved towards Geralt, the man crouching as it approached. “Ciri,” his voice was disapproving, “I thought we weren’t going to explore on our own.”

The lion,  _ Ciri _ , you thought, grumbled as she pushed her head against Geralt’s arm, the man having to catch his balance to prevent falling over. You struggled against him, trying to get your head close enough to the lion to greet her. Geralt seemed to understand your silent demands, dropping to his knees as he shifted you in his arms, allowing you to peer at the lion. She went down to her haunches, stilling as you reached towards her, relaxing at the familiarity of her scent filling your nose. She purred as you rubbed the side of your head against her before pulling away, licking behind your ear to return the affection. You could feel Geralt’s chest rumbling as he chuckled, standing as he made his way over to the fire. 

Ciri followed him, flopping down next to a log as she watched Yennefer add the rabbit to the cauldron over the flames. She looked up at Geralt, huffing to get his attention before laying her head against her paws, lifting it again to look at you. The Witcher seemed to get the message, striding over to her as he dropped to his knees next to the big cat. You scrabbled against his chest as he tipped forwards, gravity pulling you downwards. You were quickly arranged against Ciri’s side, pushed against her as she pulled her legs in around you, larger body curling around you and enveloping you in warmth. You sighed as you relaxed, shifting slightly so you were pressed more tightly against her. 

Yennefer shot the two of you a small smile as she passed, Jaskier dropping a hand on your heads as he followed her a moment later. Geralt rested against a log on the opposite side, having disappeared briefly before reappearing with his sword and a whetstone. You shifted uncomfortably at the sound of him drawing the blade, calming when Ciri nudged her nose against you, placing her head over your back. The warm weight soothed you and your eyes became heavy again, the heat from the larger animal lulling you to sleep once more. You were awakened by a tongue against your face, squirming away from the lion as she continued to lick you. You chirped at her, clearly displeased with the treatment, only getting an amused huff in response. 

The lion stood, shaking out her fur before taking a few steps away, the feline form quickly being replaced by a young woman. She shot you a grin as she returned, seating herself on the log behind you. She reached towards you, pausing to wait for your nod before pulling you into her lap, settling you carefully against her. Jaskier cooed at the two of you when he looked over, a fond smile on Geralt’s face. Yennefer looked slightly uncomfortable before she pasted a small smile on her face. You shifted slightly, not sure at the reaction before you filed it away, promising to look at it at a different time. You remained in Ciri’s lap for a few more minutes, enjoying the feeling of the slender hand stroking through your fur. A bowl was quickly given to Ciri and another one placed on the ground for you as she gently placed you next to the log. 

You ate quickly, the rabbit stew igniting a hunger in you you didn’t know you had. You quickly devoured one bowl before Jaskier quickly swept it away, filling the dish and placing it in front of you again. You finished that one as well, following it with several pieces of bread afterwards. Stomach full, you limped over to Geralt’s side, gently touching your injured paw to the ground to test it out. It still wouldn’t bear your full weight, but it no longer protested any contact with the ground. 

The Witcher shifted his body to the ground, long legs stretched out in front of him as he helped you into his lap. You lay your head on top of his thigh, content to watch the other three shapeshifters in the clearing. Yennefer and Ciri worked on, from what you could tell, small spells as Jaskier sat against another log with his lute, singing to himself and making notes on a piece of parchment next to him. You could feel yourself dozing, the food from earlier making you tired. Geralt’s hand began tracing patterns in your fur, further pushing you towards sleep. He seemed to sense this, bringing his hand to cover your eyes, thumb hooked around your ear.

“Sleep, my little fox, we will still be here when you wake up.” At his gentle coaxing, you let yourself drift, safe and warm in the presence of the shapeshifter pack.

**~*~*~*~**

This became the pattern over the next couple of days. You spent much of the day sleeping, dividing your time between Geralt’s, Ciri’s, and Jaskier’s laps. Occasionally you would curl up next to Yennefer, but that was only when the other three were busy. You noticed she never initiated contact with you, letting you approach her. It wasn’t that she was ignoring you, but she never sought you out like the other three. Once you noticed that you tried to make an effort to sit next to her every once in a while. She would offer you a smile, starting to relax in your presence, even offering you the occasional head pat as she passed you.

The rest of your time was spent tussling with Jaskier and Ciri, often terrorizing Geralt with the two of them. You tumbled with Jaskier quite often, as he was the only one willing to fight with you; Geralt and Ciri were afraid their bigger sizes would hurt you, especially while you were still healing. You would explore the woods with Ciri, occasionally glimpsing a white wolf following the two of you. On the occasions you got tired, you would clamber onto her or Geralt’s back, enjoying the ride back to the camp. You felt warm and relaxed, safe with the people you were quickly beginning to call your friends.

As you were sitting in Geralt’s lap after dinner one day, you turned to him to make a comment about Ciri pulling a prank on Jaskier before realizing you still couldn’t speak. You wanted to speak, but you still weren’t sure if you were ready to change back. As you debated your concerns in your mind, you realized you hadn’t thought of  _ him _ and the keep in a while. Looking deep within yourself, you found that you were safe and happy, you were ready. Closing your eyes, you allowed your body to completely relax, diving down as you searched for that well of power. Finding it, you quickly dove into it, allowing the power to surge through you.

As you came back to yourself, you realized the clearing had gone silent. Opening your eyes, you found Jaskier and Ciri gaping at you, Yennefer also looking at you but with a little more poise. You giggled at their faces before your breath was squished out of you as arms came around you, pulling you back against a chest as Geralt shoved his face into the crook of your neck. You could feel shaky breaths against your skin as you closed your eyes, turning your face to press your nose against his temple, breathing in the scent of safety. You stayed that way a while, hearing the other three’s voices murmuring softly before fading into the trees. Distantly, you registered them leaving the clearing but the feeling of Geralt’s skin against your own forced any other thought to the back of your mind. 

You slowly drew back, shifting in his lap as you struggled to turn towards him, keeping your injured wrist tucked against your chest. He helped move you, guiding you so that you were sitting on your butt, legs straddling his waist before pulling you against his chest once more, arms tight around your waist. Your arms wound around his torso as you lay your head against his shoulder, tucking your nose into his neck as you suddenly felt hot tears running down your cheeks. His embrace tightened, rubbing your back as he pressed his face into your hair, murmuring nonsense as he held you, letting you work your emotions out. You went limp against him, tears finally stopping as you drooped. He pulled back, one hand coming up to cup your face as he smiled gently down at you.

“I missed you, little fox. I’m so sorry for what happened. I left you alone and you were hurt because of it-” you cut him off as you pressed your hand against his lips. His golden eyes were sad, emotions swimming behind the colour you had become so fond of. You shook your head as you removed your hand, pulling his own from your face to interlace your fingers, speaking as he opened his mouth to continue.

“Geralt, I had a lot of time to think while I was there, and not once did I think my being captured was in any way your fault.” Your voice was hoarse from a mixture of screaming and lack of use. “All I know is that you came to get me, and for that I’m thankful.”

He still looked unsure, starting to speak once more. You stopped him as you leaned forward, placing a kiss against his cheek. He stared at you in shock before leaning his forehead against yours, voice breaking as he spoke. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again, that you were going to die in that godsforsaken place.”

“I didn’t,” you whispered, slipping your other hand free to place it against his cheek. He brought his own up to place it over yours, holding your fingers to his face. He closed his eyes as he exhaled shakily, his scent overwhelming you. You closed your own eyes as well, reveling in the ability to touch him again, once more feeling that warm spark you’d felt around him before. You slipped one arm back around his waist, relaxing against him as you laid your chest against his. You stayed that way until the other three came back, Geralt’s voice rumbling out to greet them. There was a quick discussion that you didn’t listen to, content to bask in the warmth radiating off of the Witcher’s body. You were roused by a gentle shake, opening your eyes to find Geralt gazing down at you with warm eyes. “Let’s get you to bed, little fox, before you fall asleep on me. Yennefer and Jaskier were kind enough to fill a bath for you as well; they thought you might want to wash before you rest.”

You yawned as you nodded, pushing on his shoulders as you stood. You staggered slightly at the change in height, not used to being this high off the ground. Geralt was quick to steady you, frowning as he actually saw you. Your clothes were tattered and hung off you, making it very obvious you had lost a significant amount of weight. The frown remained on his face as he helped you into the tent, guiding you to a back partition you hadn’t noticed before. A tub was waiting for you, steam curling gently off the surface. You could smell orange wafting off the water, combined with lavender and rose. Jaskier must have added oils to the water, bubbles covering the surface. Geralt was still frowning at you as he deposited you on a chair, watching as you sagged against the back as he released you.

“Are you able to bathe by yourself? Or will you need help? I can get Yennefer if you need.” Embarrassment shot through your body at the thought of the older woman helping you, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to bathe on your own. You had gotten stronger over the last few days, but shifting had wiped away any of that energy. Shyly, you looked up at the Witcher, a slight flush on your cheeks.

“Would- would you help me?” His gaze softened at your words, the crinkle in his brow disappearing somewhat. He nodded, helping you stand, supporting you as you undid the laces on your tunic and pants. You held your shirt against your chest, watching as he closed his eyes, keeping a hand on his arm before you dropped the fabric and stepped into the tub. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your arms on your legs.

“Okay, I’m in.” At your words, Geralt opened his eyes, reaching for a cloth and a water jug as he dropped to his knees behind you. Rolling his sleeves, he filled the jug before slowly pouring it over your head, hand working through your hair to wet it. You closed your eyes at the feeling, the warm water only serving to further relax you. He worked soap into your hair, filling the jug to rinse your hair once more. That finished, he handed you the cloth and some soap, allowing you to clean the rest of your body. You tried to clean your uninjured arm, but couldn’t quite get your injured wrist to work.

“Let me,” Geralt gently took the cloth from you, grasping your arm in his fingers. You looked away, hoping he wouldn’t see the flush on your cheeks that resulted from his touch. Finished with your arm, he gently pushed your hair over your shoulder, wetting the cloth to wash your back. You let yourself relax, muscles loosening as he worked. Suddenly he went still, a low growl rumbling out of his chest. Your eyes opened at this, the fragile peace of the moment shattered.

“Geralt, what is it?” You flinched as his finger brushed over your back, following a path you couldn’t see.

“Did he do this?” His voice was a low growl, a threat hidden behind the simple words.

“Do what?” You couldn’t think of what Geralt was asking about, you had no idea what he was talking about.

At the lack of response, you searched your mind for anything that might have triggered Geralt’s reaction. You tensed as you remembered the lashes, Astarion laughing as he brought the whip down on your back again and again. As the memory flooded your mind you suddenly burst into tears once more, hands coming up to cover your face. You felt a body against yours, a hand coming up to tangle in your hair. You latched onto Geralt, pressing your face into his shoulder as his other arm came around you, holding you against him. He rocked you slowly, soft voice shushing you as you cried. You stayed that way, only moving once the water went cold. You were too shell shocked to offer much help, Geralt gently drying you and dressing you in the robe Yennefer had offered you as a replacement for your own clothes. He gently combed your matted hair, careful not to pull as he separated the knots.

Once finished, he scooped you into his arms, letting you rest your head against his chest as he moved towards his bed. He gently laid you down, climbing in next to you as he drew the blanket over your shoulders. Reaching out, he pulled you against him, laying your head against him as he ran his fingers through your wet hair. 

“Never again.” You stirred, blinking blearily at him as he spoke. His gaze was intense as he looked down at you, threatening to burn you with the twin suns of his eyes. “You won’t be hurt like that again, not if I have any say in it.’

You smiled up at him softly, reaching your hand up to interlace your fingers before closing your eyes, content to drift off to sleep, blanketed in the warmth and safety Geralt offered you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Come scream at me on tumblr @whitewolfandthe fox


	12. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get closer with Ciri and Jaskier, doing your best to try to get to know Yennefer as well. Geralt has you on a whirlwind of emotions, and you can’t keep up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a double update! I want to stay on track with tumblr and I posted in the middle of the week but forgot to do it here. So here you go lovelies, enjoy!

You were woken when someone jumped onto the bed you were in, bouncing you against the body next to yours. A voice,  _ Geralt _ , spoke above you at the intrusion. “Ciri,  _ be careful _ , she’s still sleeping.”

You opened your eyes to see the blonde girl bouncing on the mattress, a huge smile on her face. She squealed when she saw you awake, shaking your arm gently. “You’re up! Aunt Yen said we could sew some new clothes for you today, and she’s going to teach me the spells to do it! I made you breakfast so we can get started as soon as possible. She also said you could borrow one of her gowns to wear until we finish your own.”

You smiled at her enthusiasm, pushing yourself upwards to lean against the headboard. Geralt was quick to follow you, shoving a pillow behind your back to offer more support. “Thank you, Ciri, I would love that. Just let me get dressed and I will meet you out there.”

You were awarded with a quick hug before the woman was up and rushing towards the door, calling for Yennefer as she went. You looked at Geralt, a laugh escaping from your lips. “I can see what Jaskier meant when he said she was very excitable.”

He smiled back at you, “She’s a handful, that’s for sure. But she means well. You should hurry though, or Jaskier may eat all of the food.”

You pushed at his shoulder before flipping the blanket back, setting your feet on the floor. You looked around the room, spotting a gown laid out on one of the beds. That must be the one Yennefer left for you. You crossed the room and swept up the fabric, marvelling at the softness beneath your fingertips. The dress itself was simple, but well made. You moved behind the partition from last night, dropping your robe before stepping into the dress you had been left. It was a little loose, but fit pretty well, considering the circumstances. You tried to lace the strings in the back of the dress, but your injured limb halted your movements. Silently cursing your injury, you stepped out from behind the wall and made your way to the Witcher.

You stopped as you looked up, faced with a shirtless Geralt, his back to you as he bent to pick up a new tunic. The muscles under his skin rippled as he moved, displaying the massive strength his frame held. You swallowed reflexively, trying to ignore the heat that ignited in your core at the sight. You moved closer, hoping your face didn’t give away your thoughts. The man turned as he pulled the tunic over his head, starting slightly as he saw you. You smelt a peculiar scent wafting through the air, but you couldn’t quite place it. You shook your head before looking up at him in a silent ask, turning around to offer him the laces on the dress. He chuckled at that, stepping up behind you and taking the strings from your hands. A shiver ran through you at the feeling of his hands brushing over your bare skin, and you fought to stay still, keeping the blush off of your face.

You thanked him softly once he finished, not trusting your voice. You quickly turned and fled, leaving the Witcher and the confusing feelings behind. As you emerged, Ciri burst into a brilliant smile and bounded towards you. Yennefer offered you a brief wave from where she sat, and you smiled in return. Ciri latched onto your hand as she reached you, tugging you behind her towards the fire, babbling the whole way.

“I’ve never sewn clothes before, or even altered them, grandmother only let me do  _ cross stitch _ , and that’s so boring, it’s not like sewing real dresses.” She sounded disgusted at the concept of cross stitch, forcing you to hide a smile behind your hand as she seated you next to Yennefer. “And Aunt Yen said she would teach me how to do them magically, which is super cool, cause then I’ll never have to go to a seamstress again, I can do my own clothes. I’ll only have to buy the fabric, which is so much cheaper than an actual dress, so that will make things easier.”

Ciri continued talking as you glanced at Yennefer, taking the bowl of oatmeal that she offered with a soft thank you. The two of you ate in silence, nodding along with Ciri’s chatter as she moved on from sewing spells to telling you about the new tracking spells she had learned and how she was planning on using them to prank Jaskier. Once you all were finished eating, Yennefer sent Ciri into the tent to retrieve the fabrics you were going to be dressed in. You helped the mage with washing the dishes, wanting to say something, but not knowing the words. 

“I just wanted to say,” you paused, searching for the right words as Yennefer stilled, offering you her attention. “I wanted to say thank you. For coming to find me, and… and for healing me, afterwards. I can’t repay you.”

The other woman looked thoughtful at your words, considering her response. “You don’t need to thank me. I would have done that for any shapeshifter, especially for a mate. What you can do for me, though, is be careful with Geralt. Make sure you know your feelings, and don’t hurt him, or you’ll have us to deal with.”

You hummed at her words, understanding the hidden concern behind them. “Of course, I would never hurt him. I-” You hesitated again, feeling like you were floundering in the conversation. “I do feel- for him, I just don’t know what- what exactly it is. But I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Good, that’s all that I ask.” She gave you a sharp nod before looking towards the tent, standing when she saw Ciri emerge from the tent with various rolls of fabric in her arms. You took a deep breath now that the mage’s attention was off of you, trying to regain your equilibrium. You were always left feeling off kilter when you spoke to her, having to search for the right words. 

You wondered at her and Geralt’s relationship, turning over your conversation in your mind. She had said mate, but you had no idea what that meant. Were they together? Ciri called her aunt, but that could mean anything. You clamped down on the abrupt surge of hot jealousy, locking it in the back of your mind as you pasted a smile on your face and following her to where Ciri was laying out the fabrics.

The next couple of hours were spent being fussed over by Ciri and Yennefer, Jaskier popping by at one point to help pick colours and styles. You felt overwhelmed by it all, not used to all of the attention. By the end of it, you had a series of pants and tunics to wear, as well as a few sleeping robes and some dresses to wear when you weren’t travelling. Begging a headache, you escaped to the tent with your new clothes, dropping them onto the chest next to Geralt’s bed as you rubbed your temples. You looked up when you heard a chuckle, seeing Geralt entering the room as well.

“Jask and Yen get to you?” You groaned at the smile on his face.

“I didn’t think that getting clothes would be so much work. I normally just tell the seamstress to pick a few different colours and then go pick them up in a week. I don’t care about the cut or the fabric, I just want to make sure I can work in it.” You flopped onto the bed, arms splayed out to the side as your legs hung off the edge. You felt the bed dip as Geralt sat down next to you, hand gently running down your arm. You rolled your head to the side, looking up to see him grinning at the wall. Growling, you smacked him before getting to your feet, returning to the chest to fold your clothes, piling them neatly in the middle.

“Geralt, I wanted to talk to you about something.” You felt his gaze on you but didn’t look up, keeping your hands busy with your task. You wanted to know where you stood. “Yennefer mentioned something about a mate, and I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. What did she mean?”

You looked up at his growl to see his face transformed into a scowl. “She shouldn’t have said anything about that, it wasn’t her place. She’s wrong.”

You were left reeling at the sudden change in mood. “Wrong about what? Geralt, I don’t understand what’s going on. I feel a- a connection, when I’m around you but I don’t know what-”

You were cut off as the Witcher stood, striding towards the entrance to the tent and leaving you behind without a backward glance. You were left with a mixture of feelings: rage, confusion, joy, panic, concern, anger, and a variety of others. You had no idea where they were coming from or what they meant, you just felt disoriented at the rapid cycle of emotions that was whirling through you. You blinked rapidly as you looked towards the ceiling, desperately trying not to cry as rejection swept through you. Maybe he was with Yennefer? You couldn’t be sure.

You heard movement behind you, causing you to jump as you discreetly wiped your eyes before turning to see who had just entered the tent. Ciri had come bounding into the room, slightly more subdued than earlier. She smiled softly at you, seeming to sense that her original enthusiasm wasn’t welcome at that moment. Making her way over to you, she picked up one of the dresses you had yet to fold. “Can I see you in it? Let’s get you into something that fits.”

Sniffling a little, you nodded. Turning your back to her, you asked, “Can you help me with the laces?”

Her nimble fingers were quick to undo the ties, handing you the dress as you held the material to your chest. You were quick to change behind the partition, taking a moment to marvel at the dress, the way it clung to your curves. You emerged from behind the wall to a gasp from Ciri, her eyes shining at the sight of you. She gestured for you to turn around, deftly lacing the strings. “You’ll be able to do them yourself once your wrist is healed, we made sure the design would allow for it. Now turn around, I want to see you.”

You turned towards her as she took a step backwards, nervously smoothing the material against you. The dress was tight in the bodice, three quarter sleeves clinging to your arms, allowing you to move freely. The skirt flared out at the hips before ending at your ankles, your bare feet visible beneath the hem. The colour complimented your skin tone, almost matching your eyes. You twirled slowly, drawing a squeal from Ciri as she clapped her hands. “Beautiful,” she declared, reaching out to grasp your hands.

“I’m so glad to have another girl to travel with. Uncle Jask and Papa never seem to understand girl things, and Aunt Yen is just so stuffy sometimes.” You laughed at that, feeling better as she teased her family. “We can do all sorts of things together, it’ll be so much fun! We could make flower crowns! Maybe see if we could get one on Papa, I think together he might let us.”

You ignored the twinge in your heart at the mention of Geralt as you nodded. “Maybe I could braid your hair?”

This drew another gasp from her as she turned a hopeful gaze on you. “Could you? Uncle Jaskier is terrible at it, and Aunt Yen doesn’t often do it.”

Hooking an arm through hers, you drew her towards the door. “I’d love to, dear. And maybe we can find some flowers to put in as well.”

The two of you spent the next few hours collecting flowers and braiding intricate crowns into each other’s hair, adding the flowers in place of jewels. Jaskier wandered over at one point, pointing out the colour combinations that would work the best for each of you. You were surprised at his knowledge, but after taking a look at his clothes you grinned to yourself. Maybe it shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was. While you were working, Geralt and Yennefer joined you, the Witcher watching you with an unreadable gaze. You astutely ignored him, conversing only with Ciri and Jaskier as you continued braiding. 

When you were finished, Jaskier tugged Ciri up, asking her to go look for a good place to hang their washing with him. Yenenfer stood as well, saying she would meet them with the rope, leaving you alone with Geralt. You refused to look up, keeping your focus on the flower in your hands, slowly pulling the petals before shredding them individually. You sensed rather than saw him move towards you, sitting a little ways away on the log. You sat in silence for a while, Geralt shifting every so often. You knew he wanted your attention, but you were still upset with him, hurt by his reaction earlier.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hesitant. “I- ah, wanted to apologize for earlier. Yen should never have said anything, it wasn’t her place. But I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I should have listened to you.”

“Yennefer didn’t bring it up. I wanted to thank her for helping rescue me, and the conversation turned that way.” You didn’t acknowledge his apology, seeing as it wasn’t for what hurt you. 

He was silent for a few minutes as you continued to rip the petals. You heard him stand, your heart breaking a little bit as you thought he was going to leave again. You felt warm hands pull the flower from your grasp before coming to cover yours as Geralt knelt in front of you. You looked up at him through your lashes, his gaze genuinely sorry as he stared down at you. “I am sorry for hurting your feelings. This is all new to me.”

You sighed as you looked down at your covered hands, turning your palms upwards to lace your fingers through his. “I just want you to talk to me, Geralt. This is all new to me as well. But if you run away when I try to understand what’s happening, it doesn’t help. I don’t know anything about being a shapeshifter, and I feel like I’m drowning with everything that’s happened.”

You felt a kiss against your forehead, setting off a new wave of emotions in you before he leaned his own against yours. “I know, I’m sorry, little fox. I will be better, I promise.”

You nodded silently, tugging him up onto the log next to you before tucking yourself against his side. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you against him as you sat quietly. The two of you remained that way, content to sit with each other until the other three returned and chaos consumed the clearing once more.

**~*~*~*~**

The next two days passed quickly, and you seemed to gain a little bit of strength every hour that passed. You had been doing well, most of your injuries healed, rarely getting twinges of pain. Your panic attacks had subsided as well, the pack learning what your triggers were and working to avoid bringing them up. You still had nightmares, but they were slowly getting better. You had continued sleeping in Geralt’s bed, his presence helping to keep the terrors at bay.

Geralt had been different towards you ever since the day in the bath, more careful with you: watching where he touched you, always making sure you knew where he was around you. He would bring you your meals, making sure you were settled with a blanket over your lap. During the evenings, he would pull you against him, gently supporting your body against his. You found it endearing, your fondness of the Witcher only growing at his actions. That quickly changed though, Geralt not letting you help with more than basic tasks, even though you were almost fully recovered.

Ciri had asked you to go gather wood with her one night, and you had agreed, standing to follow her into the trees. Geralt had been quick to intercept you, gently pushing you down, saying you still needed to rest your wrist. You had been baffled at first, your wrist hadn’t hurt in days, but you reluctantly agreed.

This pattern had continued, Geralt stopping you or taking over a task you were doing. You let him hover for a while, trying to pick tasks he would let you do. You eventually blew up at him when he tried to take the spoon you had been using to stir the stew from you, claiming that you were looking pale and needed to sit down. You had snatched the spoon back from him, turning to brandish it at him like a sword.

“I can do it, Geralt! I am not some invalid that you need to do everything for me, I am perfectly capable of doing it myself. I can’t chop wood, I can’t wash dishes, I can’t help with dinner, what can I do? Sit there and look pretty? I’ve been working my whole life, and I don’t intend to stop now!” You had turned away from him, chest heaving as you fought to calm yourself. Yennefer had been the only one around at the time, offering you a sympathetic look before turning to glare at the Witcher. 

You had shook your head, trying to keep the angry tears at bay as you dropped the spoon next to the pot before stalking off into the trees.

**~*~*~*~**

The next day you found yourself laying in the grass with Jaskier ( _ Jask _ , he had insisted you call him), pointing and laughing at the clouds that floated past. Geralt had followed you after a few hours, murmuring an apology and promising to back off. You had thanked him, offering a hug, before returning to the clearing. The two of you didn’t bring the topic up again, dancing around each other as if on eggshells. 

You had still been angry, choosing to spend your time with Ciri and Jaskier. You had discovered the other man was actually a bard; you had suspected that from when you had met him, but he had confirmed it as you two had spoken. He had his lute now, strumming chords gently as you hummed along. Ciri had joined you for a while but had left, unable to sit still for so long. She and Yennefer had gone to explore the woods, a lion chasing a black raven through the trees as they left.

Jaskier had wandered off at some point, leaving you lying by yourself. You closed your eyes in the silence, letting yourself drift as you listened to the birds singing in the trees. Geralt had joined you, leaning back on his elbows. You had cracked an eye at him, offering a grin as you received a gentle smile in return before closing it again, letting yourself continue to drift. You felt a hand touch your head, tracing the strands of hair that were intricately wound together. You and Ciri had taken to braiding each other’s hair in the morning, with you teaching her different styles each day. The two of you had grown much closer; it was nice to have someone look up to you, wanting to spend time with you and learn what you knew.

“It looks nice,” Geralt’s voice was low, gently breaking the silence, a hidden apology in his voice. You opened your eyes, sitting up to pull the ties from your hair, letting it flow freely before laying back down with your head in his lap. He chuckled but acquiesced to your silent ask, slowly pulling his fingers through your locks. You hummed in thanks, pleasure mixing into the sound. You smiled up at him, the Witcher tugging gently on your hair in answer. The two of you stayed that way, the birds and your soft humming the only sounds to break the silence. 

You reached up, pulling one of his hands down to rest on your chest, lacing your fingers together. Geralt offered a shy smile as he squeezed your hand in return. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before broaching the subject he had run from before. “Geralt, what did Yennefer mean by mate? She said something about doing anything for a mate.”

You felt him tense underneath your head, hand freezing in your hair as he forced an exhale. He slowly relaxed as he emptied his lungs, fingers resuming their pattern through your hair. You closed your eyes at the feeling, something inside you not wanting to hear the answer. “Shapeshifters form soul bonds with their mate, with the ones they are destined to be with. Yennefer meant that a shapeshifter will do anything to protect their mate, and their pack will typically go along with them. You only have one mate in your life, so most shapeshifters are very protective of theirs.”

You turned that information over in your mind, trying to figure out if that meant Geralt and Yennefer were mated. It was very vague, nothing personal in the sentence. “Do you have a mate?”

Geralt hesitated, lifting the jug of water to his lips to take a drink, the delayed response prompting you to ask, “Are you and Yennefer mates?”

Geralt choked above you, coughing as he tried to regain his breath after your question. You scrabbled to a sitting position, confused at his reaction. You watched him in worry as he worked to calm his breathing, coughing occasionally. He shot you a look, an emotion you couldn’t name swimming in his eyes, a wary expression on his face. “Yen and I aren’t mated to each other, no. If she’s mated is a question for her.”

You noticed he hadn’t said anything about himself. You felt a flash of hurt shoot through your chest at his lack of response, trying to figure out why he would avoid answering the question unless he was mated. Had you been reading the situation wrong? You thought he had maybe felt something for you, but perhaps not. Maybe he was this way with all of the members of his pack. You opened your mouth to ask him again when Ciri and Yennefer returned to the clearing. Seeing them, Geralt jumped up and hurried towards his daughter, saying something about sword training. 

You sat there stunned, wondering where it had all gone wrong. He had been so sweet towards you, playing with your hair and letting you lie in his lap. Even though he had made you so angry days before, you thought you had understood the reasoning behind it, thought it was because he had maybe felt something for you. You thought your relationship had grown stronger, thought you maybe could have this conversation with him, only to have him run away from you yet again when you started talking. You could feel anxiety building up in you, threatening to spill over in the form of tears. You pushed yourself to your feet, blinking rapidly as you turned away from the father-daughter duo, heading for the treeline in an attempt to compose yourself. 

Yennefer caught your arm as you passed her, tucking her hand into your elbow as she led you into the forest, finding a stump to nudge you down onto. She knelt in front of you, clasping your hands in hers. You were shocked; she rarely initiated conversation, preferring to respond to your own attempts. You smiled down at her, trying to hide your tears. She looked up at you sadly, concern clear in her eyes. 

“Don’t give up on him, please, Y/N. He means well, he just can’t find the words. He’s never been good with emotions, and this all scares him.” Her tone was soft, pleading with you to see her side. 

“I want to, Yennefer, I really do, but...it hurts. He’s hurting me. I can’t keep up with him, constantly bouncing back and forth between coming closer and running away. I don’t know what else to do, he won’t  _ talk _ to me.” The tears finally spilled over, running hot down your cheeks as you freed a hand to wipe your face. 

She looked at you with sympathy, squeezing your fingers, “I know, and I’m sorry. Just, don’t give up on him yet, okay? I’ll talk to him as well.” 

She stood, brushing the dirt off of her knees. “Take as long as you need, I’ll keep Ciri distracted.”

She turned and headed back towards the clearing, sending you a sad glance over her shoulder. As she disappeared, you broke down, the sob you had been suppressing ripping its way out of your chest. You curled in on yourself, gasping for air as all of the emotions you had been suppressing rushed out of you. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you dug your fingers into your sides, hoping the physical pain would help dull the emotional. When that didn’t work, you dove deep within yourself, falling into the well as you fell forwards, racing through the underbrush on four legs. You ran for what felt like hours, trying desperately to stitch your broken pieces back together. 

Wrapped up in your pain, you didn’t notice a familiar black raven following you through the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Come yell at me on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox


	13. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to mend the bond between yourself and Geralt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a couple of comments saying my chapters were out of order and/or missing (thank you Vegetasan for pointing out what it was exactly). Not sure what was going on, but I ended up deleting some things to fix the problem and am reposting the chapter. Enjoy!

When you finally returned to camp, Geralt had disappeared and the other three were sitting quietly by the fire, murmuring amongst themselves. When you had appeared in the treeline, yellow eyes glowing in the light, Ciri had spotted you first. She dropped forwards onto four paws as she trotted towards you, leaning her head down to brush her snout against yours. You hummed low in your chest, pushing back into her. You followed her towards the other two, curling into her side when she flopped to the ground. Jaskier had offered you a sad smile, dropping a hand on your head to rub behind your ears. You leaned into his hand, a silent thanks. Yennefer had made eye contact with you, giving you a small nod, to which you dipped your head in response.

Geralt hadn’t returned by the time Ciri had gone to bed, so you followed the woman back to the tent. Jaskier had lifted you onto her bed when it was clear you weren’t going to change back, Ciri following your lead as she leapt up, curling around you on top of the blankets. You nuzzled into her, warmth enveloping you as you drifted off to sleep. You had remained in your fox form in the morning, Ciri staying with you. As the two of you emerged from the tent, you could see Geralt chopping wood on the other side of the clearing. He started towards you when he saw you before halting as you glared at him, turning away to stay with Ciri. You nudged at the younger woman to lie down, placing yourself at her head as you started licking her, washing behind her ears. She purred, a low sound in her throat, as her eyes closed and she flopped onto her side, allowing you better access.

Jaskier couldn’t quite hide his smile when he approached the two of you, bowls of oatmeal in his hands. He placed them on the ground in front of you, Ciri lunging for one as you stood and made your way over. She ate quickly, headbutting the bard as a silent ask for more. You ate more slowly, continuing to ignore Geralt as he watched you from across the clearing. Once finished, you caught Ciri again, cleaning the extra food off of her before releasing her to go explore. You watched her until she disappeared into the trees with Yennefer, off on another magic lesson. You made your way over to Jaskier, sprawling out on the ground next to him. You lay there, eyes half-lidded as you watched him play. You could see Geralt out of the corner of your eyes, saw him approach, a hesitant look on his face. You closed your eyes again, not wanting to have to interact with him.

“Geralt!” You winced when Jaskier’s clear voice rang out through the clearing. “Come, sit! Join us on this lovely afternoon.”

You could almost sense his hesitation, before he moved toward the two of you, sitting with his back against the log Jaskier was on. You didn’t move, letting Jaskier’s music soothe you into a daze, the sun warm against your fur. You let yourself drift, only coming back to yourself when you realized Jaskier had stopped playing. You opened your eyes to see him stand, panic flashing through you at the thought of being left alone with Geralt, to have him reject you once more.

“Well, Yen said something about needing a victim to help Ciri with her spells, so I’m just going to go join them. Enjoy the quiet while you can.” With that, Jaskier turned and sauntered out of the clearing, humming a tune as he went. You forced yourself to relax, loosening the muscles that had tensed at Jaskier’s departure. Sitting, you busied yourself with your paws, cleaning the dirt that had gathered between your toes. You stilled as a large hand entered your vision, grasping the foot you were working on.

“Let me,” Geralt’s voice was soft, his hands gentle as he picked at the leaves that were tangled in your fur. You stayed motionless as he worked, allowing him to lift your other paw when he finished with the first. Setting your paw on the ground, he gently placed a finger under your muzzle, lifting your head so that you were looking at him. You could see an apology in his eyes, remorse clear on his face. You sighed, pushing your nose into his palm, bringing a sad smile to his face before it dropped off again.

“Can I hold you?” At your nod, he gently wrapped his hands around your middle, lifting you into his arms as he sat back on the log. He kept you against his chest, face pressed into your head as he exhaled, a shaky breath that warmed your fur. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You whimpered, pushing back against him as you closed your eyes. You knew he hadn’t intentionally tried to hurt you, but he did, and he had to know that. Sighing again, you dug deep, submerging yourself into the pool of magic as you let yourself shift. You found yourself sitting on Geralt’s lap, your back to his chest as his arms tightened around your waist. A small smile came to his face at the sight of you in your human form and he pressed a kiss against the back of your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder, his presence warm on your back. You let yourself relax against him, relishing in the feel of him against your skin.

You didn’t rest long though, pushing away from the Witcher to stand a little bit away, your back to him as you hugged yourself. You heard Geralt stand and take a step towards you, freezing when you spun around to pin him with a glare. “You can’t do that, Geralt, it’s not fair!”

He stared at you, a guilty look on his face. His hands came up as if to reach for you before he fisted them as he crossed his arms across his chest. “I know, I’m sorry, I really am.”

“You can’t just keep saying you’re sorry, you really hurt me. Every time I try and get close to you, you push me away. I feel like you don’t want me around.” He flinched at your harsh tone, face falling as what you said registered.

“I do want you around, truly. I’m trying Y/N. I want to have a relationship with you, I just...I don’t know how.” His voice was pleading, desperate to make you understand. He took another step towards you, you retreating in response. Anger flared through you, frustrated that he wasn’t understanding.

“Then talk to me, Geralt! We need to be able to communicate. You can’t just run away whenever I ask a hard question. You need to be an adult and actually talk to me.” You were panting, your outbreak draining your energy.

“I know, I will try, I promise. I want to learn, I just need you to be patient with me.”

“Geralt…” You sighed, turning away again. You thought back to Yennefer’s words,  _ Don’t give up on him _ . Your shoulders drooped, posture slumping as the fight drained out of you. 

His voice was tentative, fear lacing his tone. “Y/N?”

You spoke tearfully, soft voice trembling, threatening to break. “Just… hold me, please.”

He was quick to step towards you, spinning you towards him as he pulled you against his chest. You pressed your face against his tunic, your tears staining the fabric as you wept silently. Geralt’s hand came up to run through your hair, his other hand pressed between your shoulder blades. Your own hands came up to fist in his shirt, clinging to him as you cried. He shushed you, gently rocking back and forth. 

You drew back and looked up at him. “I just want to go to bed.”

He nodded, a hand coming up to wipe a tear from your cheek before leading you back to the tent. Once you were changed and settled, Geralt climbed into the bed behind you, pulling you against his chest. You let yourself drift, the heaviness of sleep overcoming you as warmth enveloped you.

**~*~*~*~**

You tried to give Geralt another chance, you really did. Yennefer had said that he would come around, and after the talk you two had, he was better for a while. He was attentive to you, making sure that he gave you attention throughout the day. He would brush a hand down your arm whenever he passed you, drop a kiss on your hair. You were happy, basking in the glow of this little family you were slowly being welcomed into. 

You noticed Geralt was still avoiding your questions, though. You wanted to get to know him better, but he would dodge your questions, suddenly remembering something he absolutely needed to do then. As much as he was giving you physical affection, he was still emotionally distant from you. 

You spent most of your time basking in the sun, almost fully recovered from your ordeal. Quite often Ciri would join you. As you were mostly healed, you started teaching her your trade. You would explore the forest, teaching her the names of various plants and herbs as well as what they would be used for in healing. She took to it like a moth to a flame, quickly able to recall various healing qualities when asked. Maybe when you passed a town you could pick up some supplies and teach her how to make potions. 

You had noticed that Geralt and Yennefer would often disappear during the day. You had gone into the tent a few days earlier to see the two of them huddled together over a map. You had asked Jaskier about it later that day.

“Oh, they’re still worried about the sorcerer. He got away from us when we went in to grab you. They need to come up with a way to contain him when we finally find him again, and we’re waiting for him to resurface so that we can go after him.”

You had felt a sharp flare of panic pierce through your chest, your breath accelerating at the thought of your captor still being out there. You hadn’t realized he had gotten away, hadn’t even thought to ask. Jaskier stared at you, worry clear in his gaze. You managed a tight smile for him, face pale. “I’m okay, I just...I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You’re sure?” he made to stand, but you shook your head to stop him. 

“Yes, Jask, thank you. I just need some time alone.” He still looked unsure, but nodded, prompting you to head towards the trees. You wandered below the branches, continuing to take measured breaths as you forced yourself to stay calm. You were healed, you were fine. Your pack would never let anything happen to you,  _ Geralt _ would never let anything happen to you. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize there was anyone else in the forest until you heard voices. You froze, not wanting to alert the two to your presence.

“We need to find Astarion, Geralt, there aren’t many more days left in the spell I cast. He’ll have his magic back soon, and we need to have him contained before that.” Yennefer’s voice was tense, urgency clear in her tone. 

“We’ve been tracking him for months, Yen, why is now any different?” Geralt sounded disinterested, mumbling in response to the mage’s points.

“Because of Y/N! Did you not see his research? He’s going to want her back and he’ll do anything to get her. You can’t tell me you’re not worried about her.” The disbelief was clear in the woman’s voice. You felt like you had been doused in ice water, the thought that you might end up back in that cell causing your breathing to accelerate once more. 

“She’ll be fine so long as she sticks around here, she just can’t go running off into the woods like she did last time.” The disinterest in his voice stung, your heart clenching at his words.

“And who do you think caused that, hm? If a certain someone would just admit their bond, then she wouldn’t have gone running off. You’re the one pushing her away.” Sarcasm was clear in the words, you could almost picture the accompanying eye roll, had you not been full of terror.

“She’s an adult, she can make her own decisions. It’s not like I forced her into the forest.” Geralt’s tone was tense, the words said as if through gritted teeth.

“Stop being an idiot, Geralt!” Yennefer’s was starting to sound annoyed, her tone harsh as she reprimanded the Witcher. “You have to accept this relationship, otherwise it will harm you both.”

“There is no bond to accept, Yen, you’re wrong. Yes, I care about Y/N, but that’s it, there’s nothing else there.” You froze at the mention of you, struggling to understand what Geralt was talking about.

“There is, Geralt! Why are you being so stubborn? You’re just going to hurt her!” You could almost see the two of them. You could picture Yennefer, standing with one hand on her hip while she gestured with the other. Geralt would have his arms crossed a scowl on his face. “Mating bonds are sacred, you need to honour it.”

“There’s no fucking mating bond, Yen! She’s just someone I met, it's a coincidence that she’s even a shapeshifter! Just stop harassing me…” His voice seemed to fade into the background as his words registered.  _ She’s just someone I met _ . You turned, blindly racing away as tears blurred your vision, spilling hot down your cheeks. You didn’t hear the conversation behind, the low  _ fuck _ from the Witcher followed by a harsh  _ stay here _ .

You ran until you couldn’t anymore, doubling over as sobs tore their way out of your chest, your breathing harsh as you gasped for air. All you could hear were those words repeated over and over;  _ just someone I met, just someone I met, just someone I met _ . You were a fool, thinking that there might have been something there. Everyone must have been laughing at you this last week, watching as you pined for Geralt, made an absolute idiot out of yourself. You jumped when you felt a hand on your arm, not having heard anyone approaching. You looked up to see Yennefer, concern clear in her violet eyes.

“Oh Y/N,” she murmured, pulling you against her in an embrace. Her hand came up to cup the back of your head, pressing your face against her shoulder as you clung to her, tears staining the cloth of her dress. You were so tired of this, you had cried more in the last few weeks than you had in years. It was an emotional rollercoaster, trying to keep up with Geralt. One minute he was kind and caring and the next it was like you didn’t exist. You just couldn’t keep up.

“I- I thought he- he cared for-for me.” You were in shambles, heart shattered to pieces at the realization that the man you deeply cared for, maybe even loved, didn’t return even the vaguest of feelings your way. “I’m a fool, I can’t believe I let myself think there was something there.”

“There is, I promise you, Y/N.” Yennefer pulled back to look at you, sympathy in her eyes. “Geralt is just being an absolute idiot. The mating bond just makes this even worse for you, and he’s the fool for not being able to see the absolutely wonderful partner you would make.”

“Ma- mating bond? Geralt said something about it being a soul bond, but I don’t understand. Yennefer, why does it hurt so much?” You had calmed slightly, the human touch having helped to soothe you, though tears still ran down your cheeks. The mage guided you to a large tree, supporting you as the two of you slid down to sit on the ground, backs against the trunk.

“Yen, please. You’re a part of our pack now, everyone calls me that.” You managed a small smile at that before it faded, another sob forcing its way out of your throat. Yennefer took your hands in hers, a serious look on her face as she met your gaze.

“A mating bond is one of the most sacred connections our people can make. Our gods gifted them to us after our kind was slaughtered by humans out of some misconception that we were dangerous. One half of a couple was struck down, and the other begged the gods to save them. They did, forming a soul bond between the two of them to be able to.” Your gasps had turned to hiccups, as intent as you were listening to the mage.

“What does it do?” you whispered, eyes locked on to the violet gaze across from you.

“It changes depending on the pairing, but there are a few basic qualities that span every mating bond. You are able to feel each other’s emotions, especially the strong ones. If the other is in danger or in pain, you will know. When there is an incredibly strong bond present, you can sometimes speak to each other in your minds. Each pair is different, but they are all destined by the gods to be made, regardless of who you are.” She glanced back in the direction of the campsite, hesitation clear on her face. “I really shouldn’t be the one to tell you this, but obviously he won’t, and it’s just hurting the two of you because of it.”

You stared at her, confusion and a little bit of fear building inside of you. Had they formed a bond these last few days? Is that why Geralt had rejected you so harshly?

“You and Geralt have formed a mating bond. He started it before he left your home the first time, and completed it while you were in captivity. That’s how we knew where you were, Geralt was able to find you through the bond.” You were stunned at Yennefer’s admission before the fear that had been festering inside of you suddenly spilt over, hot rage accompanying it. You pushed up off the ground, stalking a few meters away.

“No! I don’t want this! Why does he keep treating me like shit if we’re mates? Whenever I try to talk to him, he shuns me. What do I have to do to get rid of it?” You spun back around, seeing Yennefer stand as well, brushing her dress off as she shook her head.

“You can’t break it, it can be severed only through death or the gods. There are rumours of shapeshifters pleading with them to have their bond severed, but I don’t know that they are true.” You were panicking again, breath coming in short gasps, the world spinning as you became lightheaded. Yennefer seemed to sense this, grabbing your arm and helping you back to the ground, tucking you into her side. You curled up into her warmth, desperately trying to control your breathing. You felt Yen’s gentle hand push your hair away from your face before moving to your back, rubbing circles as you fought yourself.

“I know it seems bad right now, but I promise it gets better. Mating bonds are such a precious gift, those who have one are so lucky. If you lose your mate in death, the world is a little bit darker; you should do anything you can to keep them.” You could hear the sincerity in her voice, but you refused to acknowledge her reasoning.

“It hurts too much, I can’t take it. Please Yen, tell me what to do.” You were almost begging at this point, needing to do something to stop the pain that you were in.

“I had a mate once.” You started at that, not having expected the woman to share. “I was in love, we were thrilled when we discovered we had formed a bond. We did everything together, it was rare that you would see us apart. My world was full of laughter, full of hope.”

Quieting, you shifted so you could see her face. Yennefer had the gentlest expression you had seen from her yet, her eyes cloudy with a distant memory. “My world shattered the day my bond broke.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she continued. “It had been a rare moment that we were apart, I had stayed back in our community to help heal a young child while they went on patrol. It was supposed to be routine, we occasionally get information on a new shapeshifter and will send a group out to either train them or bring them back. My mate was one of the best at calming our young. It was a trap though; some humans had given us false information to lure us in.”

Her voice broke, mouth working as no words came out. She sighed, looking at you once more. “No one made it out alive. I felt when my mate died, as if we had a string connecting us and it just snapped. No more thoughts, no more emotions, I could feel nothing. There was a black hole in my heart where my bond used to be. It’s still there today, even though it’s been years. I don’t think it will ever go away. I don’t think I will ever be totally happy again. A part of me died with them.”

You could feel fresh tears running down your cheeks, prompted by the agony that ripped through her voice. “Don’t ever lose that, Y/n, promise me. You have to keep trying, because the alternative is worse than death.”

You nodded silently, at a loss for words. You had been so wary of her at first, thinking she hadn’t wanted you in her pack when in reality she was scared of getting hurt again. Surprising both of you, you leaned forwards, wrapping your arms around the other woman as you pulled her into a tight embrace. She went willingly, arms going around you as she returned the hug, pressing her face into your shoulder, breathing ragged. The two of you stayed that way for a while, content to sit in the silence of the new bond you had just created. Finally, Yennefer pulled back to look at you with a sad smile. 

“I need to leave tonight, to go to Aretuza to confer with other mages about how to contain the sorcerer.” You shivered involuntarily at the mention. Seeing this, Yennefer reached up to cup your cheek.

“Nothing will happen to you, I promise. The pack will protect you. You have nothing to fear from him any longer.” You closed your eyes, leaning into her hand as your own came up to press against hers.

“Be safe,” you finally got out, voice rough from crying. She nodded, standing as she pulled you up with her. Making a sharp gesture, a ring of light appeared in front of the two of you, showing the tent from the camp. She stepped forward, tugging you along with her. As you passed the circle your stomach jolted, sending you staggering. The mage helped you to the bed next to you, pressing a hand against your forehead as she muttered something under her breath. The nausea immediately dissipated and you looked up at her in silent thanks.

“Sleep in my bed tonight, I’m going to be leaving as soon as I say goodbye to the others.” Exhausted, you nodded, making your way over to the chest where you stored your clothes to pull out a nightgown. You quickly changed before climbing into the bed, pulling the covers over you. Yennefer finished packing her bag, stopping next to you to offer you a tight hug.

“Good luck, and be patient. I’ll be back soon.” You smiled at her, reaching out to squeeze her hand before releasing her, watching as she left the tent. You curled onto your side, the exhaustion from today’s events finally making itself known as you closed your eyes, allowing sleep to pull you under.

**~*~*~*~**

Yennefer felt a rage come over her as she watched Geralt saunter back into the clearing, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world. Striding over, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He startled, looking down at her in shock. “Yen, what-”

She cut him off, voice hissing through the air, “You are tugging that poor girl around enough, Geralt. You need to fix this, fix your relationship or you may kill her yet.”

He scoffed, “I don’t know what-”

“Now you listen here,” she jabbed him hard in the chest, hard enough to send him a step backwards as he regained his balance. “You know as well as I do that when there is a strain on a mating bond, the shapeshifters suffer. Especially when the other does nothing to fix it. Now, I am going to Aretuza to speak to Tissaia about containing this sorcerer long enough to question him about his research, and by the time I get back you better be a happy couple, or I swear to the gods I may just help Y/N find a way to break this bond.”

She took a deep breath, exhaling harshly through her nose in an attempt to calm herself. “I know just what it feels like to have a broken bond, Geralt, and I will do anything I can to prevent someone else from feeling like that. But this? You’re destroying her, and I don’t know which is worse: What you’re doing to her or a broken bond.  _ Don’t _ make me find out.”

With that, the mage spun on her heel with a sharp gesture, opening a portal to Aretuza. She stepped through, turning back to spare Geralt one last vicious glance before raising her hand to close the portal. As the circle shrunk, she glared at the Witcher before saying one last time, “Fix this.”

Geralt sighed as she disappeared, running a hand over his face. Cursing under his breath he made his way back to the tent, freezing in the entrance. You were asleep in Yennefer’s bed. Slowly he made his way over to you, heart sinking as he saw the tear tracks on your face. He reached out to wipe them away, stopping just shy of your skin. He swallowed harshly before clenching his fist, withdrawing his hand before turning and making his way to his own bed. Sleep didn’t come easy to him that night, every conversation the two of you had had playing over and over in his mind before he finally drifted off into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Thank you to those who let me know about the problem. Come yell at me on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox


	14. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your breakdown last night, you decide you need a break from Geralt in order to sort your feelings out. He decides he doesn’t want to wait for you to do this.

You didn’t feel any better when you woke up the next morning, your head pounding from your breakdown last night. Your sleep had been restless, memories of your cell mixed with visions of Geralt walking away from you as you were dragged back beneath the ground, into that cursed stone keep. You shuddered, pushing those thoughts away as you focused on what Yennefer had said last night. You didn’t know if Geralt had heard you the night before. You weren’t sure what Yennefer had told him, but you didn’t want to see him. You kept still, waiting for the movement in the tent to subside, wanting to have time to centre yourself before facing the pack. You could sense Geralt moving around, feel the weight of his gaze on you. You heard him take a step towards you, hesitating before he closed the distance; he ran a hand through your hair before dropping a kiss on your temple. You forced yourself to remain relaxed, keeping your breathing regular and feigning sleep even as you wanted to open your eyes and reach up to tangle your hand in his winter hair, to pull him back down towards you.

You didn’t though, staying motionless as you heard his footsteps getting farther away. You lay in bed, trying to sort through the raging motions that were circling through you. You thought back to last night,  _ you are able to feel each other’s emotions _ . How much of what you were feeling was yours, and how much was Geralt’s? Was some of this anger his, resentful at the thought of being saddled with a new shapeshifter? You had hurt Jaskier when they had rescued you, and although he had said he hadn’t even considered it worthy of an apology, maybe Geralt did? You couldn’t read him, couldn’t separate his emotions from yours, and you certainly couldn’t  _ talk _ to him.

This whole thing was so overwhelming. You longed for the times before you knew you could shapeshift: when life was simple and you were needed as a healer, not a research subject. You closed your eyes, breathing in for three counts and holding it, before exhaling slowly, trying to even out your breathing before you panicked again. You had thought you were getting better, but the last little while had seemed like anything but healing. Getting yourself back under control, you opened your eyes as you sat up and pushed back the blankets. You quickly changed into a day dress before leaving the tent, beelining for Jaskier who was sitting next to the fire. He smiled up at you before it dropped into a frown as he took in your red-rimmed Y/E/C eyes, dark bruises like shadows underneath them.

“Are you okay?” He continued frowning at you, placing his lute to the side in order to give you his full attention.

You managed a tight smile for him as you took the offered bowl from Ciri, thanking the girl and sending her on her way after she extracted a promise to braid her hair later. “I’m fine, Jask, just had a rough night.”

He stared at you, disbelief clear on his face. “Rough night, and what else? Are you having nightmares again?”

You sighed, body slumping as you caved. You wanted to talk to someone, and Yennefer had left last night, so this seemed like the best option at present. “Yes, but not all of them are about what happened. Some of them…. I see Geralt walking away from me as I’m pulled back to that horrid stone castle.”

Jaskier’s face fell, the man sliding towards you as he draped an arm over your shoulders to pull you into his side. One hand came up to push your head onto his shoulder before beginning to run his fingers through your hair. The feeling was comforting and you relaxed into him, letting your eyes fall shut. “He won’t talk to me, Jask, and I don’t know what to do.”

“I know, dear, I know. He’s really an idiot sometimes, but he means well. He does care for you, he just has trouble showing it.” Jaskier tutted, continuing to stroke your hair, his other hand coming to grasp yours.

“He said I was just someone he had met, that doesn’t feel like he cares for me. That feels like I’m some burden he’s been saddled with. Maybe I should leave, mating bond be damned.” 

You felt Jaskier stiffen underneath you at your words, frantically shaking his head. “You can’t do that, Y/N, you can’t ignore your bond.”

“He obviously is!” You stood, hugging yourself as you took a step away, back to the bard as fresh tears came streaming down your face. You hated crying, you’d done so much of it lately, and all because of Geralt. If you could just forget about it, forget about  _ him _ , then everything would be better. Jaskier stood, stepping up beside you to place a hand on your arm. You lifted your tear stained face to meet sad blue eyes with your own sorrowful gaze.

“Shapeshifters who ignore their bonds only end up hurting more. Just stay around for a while longer, just until we can find the sorcerer. Geralt is under a lot of stress, and he’s taking it out on you because you’re the easiest target. He knows I won’t stand for his bullshit and he wouldn’t do that to Ciri. He wants to ignore this bond because it’s new and because he’s scared.” Jaskier sighed, “I know it’s hard, but… Just ignore him until we’ve dealt with this mess. Once that’s done, he’ll have more room emotionally to begin working on your bond, he’ll be able to give you the attention you both need.”

Sagging against him, you pressed your face into the crook of his neck as his arms came up to hold you. You nodded silently as the bard’s scent filled your nose, fragrant oranges accompanied by the earthy shapeshifter smell soothing your hurt feelings. He rubbed circles into his back, letting you draw strength from him. Finally, you pulled back and offered him a sad, but genuine, smile. Jaskier reached up to wipe away your tears, a sympathetic look on his face. You took a deep breath, stepping out of his embrace.

“I’m going to go find Ciri, I promised her I would braid her hair today.” You played with your fingers, wanting to do something to get your mind off of the Witcher.

Jaskier nodded, a gentle smile coming to his face. “That will be good for you. I’ll try and distract Geralt, keep him away from you for a while.”

“Thank you,” you whispered before turning and going in search of the young girl. You found her a little ways into the trees, practicing her spells. You admired the colourful bubbles floating in the air around her, slowly drifting towards one another, sometimes coming together to combine and form a new colour. You had no idea what they were actually for, but you were enjoying watching the concentration on the girl’s face. She was focused, hands slowly forming symbols in the air as she spoke words under her breath. As you watched, the tip of her tongue poked out of her mouth as she carefully formed another bubble. Stepping back, she joined you at the edge of the small clearing she had found.

“They’re beautiful, Ciri.” She preened under your praise, a delighted look coming to her face.

“They’re just for fun, they don’t do anything, but it’s good practice. They help me work on my control and the flow of my magic, so that when I can do bigger spells, I won’t have to focus on that.” You could tell she was trying to go for a neutral tone, but you could hear the pride in her voice seeping through.

“You should be proud, it looked like you were really in control.” You smiled at her, watching as she dropped her gaze to the ground and mumbled something, her cheeks turning pink from your compliment. You draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into your side. 

“Well, in celebration, let’s go find some flowers and I’ll teach you how to make a braided crown. I’ll do yours and then you can try on me.” At your words the younger woman squealed in excitement, slipping out from under your arm as she grasped your hand, tugging you deeper into the forest as you laughed. You spent an hour searching, having to find the perfect number of petals, the perfect colours, the exact number of flowers for each crown. Returning to the clearing, you had Ciri fetch a bowl of water to lay the flowers in so they would keep while you did each other’s hair. As she busied herself with her task, you went into the tent in search of a comb.

Yennefer had offered you one when you had first started teaching Ciri to braid hair and had insisted you keep it, Jaskier doing the same with a bottle of hair oil. You had left it with your bathing things last night, near the tub. As you entered the structure, you saw Geralt leaning over the map, his forearms braced on the table as he glared down at the paper. He looked up at your entrance, offering you a soft smile. You felt a surge of anger go through you at his shifting moods, giving him an aloof nod as you headed to the back. You could see his smile falter at your lack of response but you ignored it, sweeping up the comb and bottle of oil before hurrying back out of the tent.

You settled on a log, Ciri nestled between your knees as you brushed out her hair, applying the oil to help strengthen the strands and to keep them clean. Ciri hummed underneath your hands, melting into you as slowly worked the knots out. You started parting her hair, sectioning it off into strands so that you could start braiding, slowly working your way around her head. You sensed more than saw Geralt appear in the doorway of the tent, watching the two of you for a while. You refused to look up, pretending you didn’t know he was there even when Ciri gave a little wave. After a while, he went back into the tent, and you felt a rush of disappointment sweep through you. You clamped down on it, shoving it to the back of your mind and telling yourself it was Geralt’s emotions, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care that he hadn’t tried to speak to you.

Finishing the crown, you had Ciri pick the flowers she wanted and began weaving the stalks into the strands so that they would stay in place. You switched places, allowing the younger girl to brush your hair and apply the oil, slowly following the same process as you. You felt a simple joy at this, remembering when you and your mother spent time braiding each others’ hair. You didn’t have children, and you weren’t sure you ever would, but you did have to admit that you enjoyed spending time with Ciri, teaching her small things that might make growing up a little bit easier. You hadn’t realized you had drifted off, gently brought back to the world as Ciri spoke above you.

“I’m really happy you’re here, Y/N, it’s so nice to have you around. I’ve been learning lots, and especially now that Aunt Yen had to go back to Aretuza, it’s nice to still have another girl around.” She sounded genuine, and you knew she was, having dropped little hints as you spent time with each other about how much she enjoyed spending time with you.

“Me too, Ciri, I’m so glad you found me. I love spending time with you, it’s almost like having a little sister.” She giggled at that, wiggling against you to give you an awkward hug as she kept her hands in your hair, trying not to lose the strands she was holding. You reached up, linking your hands behind her neck in an approximation of the embrace, the two of you dissolving into laughter as you failed to give a proper hug. She finished quickly, placing the flowers she wanted into your crown before you pushed yourself up onto the bench, turning to pull the younger woman into an embrace. You pressed your face into her hair, breathing in her scent as she pressed her face into your shoulder, arms tight around each other. 

Drawing back, the two of you smiled at each other before getting to work on lunch, happy to listen to Ciri as she chattered away. Jaskier joined you soon after, complimenting Ciri on her colour choices and the success of the crown on your head. She preened under the compliment, launching into an explanation on how the crown was made. You listened with half an ear, gently reminding her when she missed a step, but otherwise keeping your attention on the pot you were stirring in an attempt to avoid conversation with Geralt as he joined the small group. 

You sat next to Jaskier as you ate. Ciri, clever girl she was, seemed to pick up on the tension between yourself and the Witcher, keeping the white wolf occupied throughout lunch. You quickly cleared the dishes, attempting to make an escape before Geralt had a chance to corner you. You were unsuccessful, the Witcher asking Ciri to go collect some firewood, saying Jaskier would need to go with her as she shouldn’t be going off alone.

You could see Jaskier trying to protest before a glare was shot in his direction. You gave him a small smile, nodding your head when his gaze flicked to you. His posture slumped as he regretfully agreed, shushing his accomplice when she also tried to argue.

Anger built in you as Geralt took your arm, tugging you to a quiet corner of the clearing, opposite of the other two. You could see Jaskier pulling Ciri into the forest with him, a weary look on his face. Crossing your arms, you turned back to the Witcher, keeping your face as neutral as possible. You stared at him, watching as he fidgeted beneath your gaze.

“Are you okay?” he finally managed to get out, a look of concern on his face. You scoffed,  _ oh now he’s concerned, only after I’ve been avoiding him. This is exactly what he does to me, guess it’s not so great to be on the receiving end. _

Instead of voicing your thoughts, you settled for a version of the truth. “I’m fine, I’m just tired.”

He frowned at your answer, clearly not happy with it. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, something is obviously wrong. What is it?”

“Nothing, Geralt, just leave it.” You forced your tone to remain neutral, not wanting to get into anything right now.

“No, you’re clearly unhappy with something, and I want to help. Just tell me what’s happened.” He kept pushing, and you could feel your control fraying to a single thin strand.

“It’s not something I want to discuss with you right now, we’ll talk about it later.” Geralt flinched at your words, his expression falling at the stiffness of his tone. You took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly through your nose as you prayed to any god that would listen, hoping that the Witcher would pick up on your hint and drop the conversation. However it would seem Fate was not on your side, a shock to no one after the last few weeks. 

“Y/N, we are a pack, we support each other. If something isn’t right, I need to know so that I can fix whatever it is.” His words snapped the last of your fraying control, the anger you had tried to keep locked inside of you finally surging out.

“Support each other? What the fuck, Geralt?” You could see the shock cross his face at your outburst, but you didn’t care. “Where was your support when I’ve been in tears the last few days? Where was your support when I would ask you a question and you would run the opposite direction, needing to get away from me? Everything you’ve done since I’ve gotten here has hurt me, I don’t need you starting in on this now.”

“Y/N, you really need to calm down-” The Witcher started before you cut him off.

“Calm down,  _ calm down _ ? Did you just dare tell me to calm down? After everything you’ve put me through, I think I have every right to be angry!”

“Everything I put you through? And what exactly, pray tell, did I do that’s made you feel like you have the right to be angry at me?!”

“You...you pig headed  _ idiot _ ! I heard you last night, when you were talking with Yen! ‘Just someone you met’, isn’t that what you said? That’s me! Apparently I’ve been imagining things the last week, because what you said last night sure as hell didn’t seem like you care for me all that much.”

Geralt blanched, cursing beneath his breath before he guiltily met your eyes. “You….heard that.” 

“Every. Damn. Word. I know now just how much you care for me. You think I’m just someone you met, some shapeshifter that was stupid enough to get herself captured and you had to go save!” You flung your arms into the air, seething at the fact that he didn’t even realize what was wrong with what he had said. “Ever since I found out I was a shapeshifter, ever since you came into my life,  _ everything _ has gone wrong!”

“Now hold on-” you steamed right over him, not letting him get a word in.

“No!  _ You _ listen, because you haven’t been these last few days! Ever since I met you, ever since I’ve found out about shapeshifters, I’ve been run out of my town, tortured by a madman, almost died, had a mating bond forced on me, and now you’ve been tugging me around, making me think you cared about me, but you really didn’t! If you had never come into my life, I would still be at home, and none of this would have ever happened! I’ve been hurting every day for weeks, Geralt, and I don’t know how much more I can take. I’m broken, Geralt, and I need help, surely even you can see that! I’m not that strong, not like you, to be able to go through all of that and come out just fine on the other side.” You glared at him, chest heaving as you finished your rant. He stared back at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“That’s what you think.” His voice was flat, no emotion in it. For some reason, that pissed you off even more. You had just poured your heart out, had told him how much you had been hurting and he didn’t even care. 

“Yes, that’s what I think! I had a normal life before all of this!” You were breathing harshly, chest heaving as you desperately tried to stop your tears from falling.

“Well, if that’s what you think, if you are so unhappy with our kind, maybe you ought to just leave.” With that, Geralt turned and stormed off, tension radiating off of him. You were frozen for a moment before the fury hit you.  _ He was just going to leave? After everything you said? _

“Where are you going? We are not done with this conversation, Geralt!” He continued walking away from you, posture rigid as he ignored you. “So much for not going off alone! So much for not running away from our conversations! This is exactly what I meant when I said you don’t listen to me!”

He still didn’t turn, his large figure storming into the trees before you lost sight of him. You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to stave off the tears that threatened to fall. You hated that you cried when you were angry, hated that that was all you had been doing the last couple of days. You were done though, you’d had enough. If this was the way you were going to be treated, then you weren’t staying a moment longer. Fuck this mating bond, nothing could possibly be worse than the situation you were in. Fine, if that’s what he wanted, you would give it to him. It was time to go home.

Storming into the tent, you dumped one of Geralt’s bags, feeling a vicious satisfaction at seeing his clothes scattered across the ground. You stuffed your own meager belongings into the bag, leaving a pair of pants and a tunic to change into. You picked the comb and hair oil up off the chest where you had left it earlier, pausing to look at it reverently. You carefully placed them on Ciri’s bed, hoping she would forgive you for leaving. You quickly changed, stuffing your dress into the bag before emerging, throwing some bread and dried meat in, as well as a flask filled with water. As you swung it up onto your shoulders, adjusting the straps so that they fit comfortably, Jaskier and Ciri walked back into the clearing. 

You turned towards them, steeling yourself for a hard conversation. As Jaskier saw your face, he froze, a look of dread creeping over his expression. Ciri’s face fell but she continued towards you, her blues eyes taking on a sad expression. She paused before you, searching your face briefly. She seemed to find what she was looking for because her own face crumpled as she flung herself at you, arms circling your waist. You caught her, slowly sinking to the ground as you pressed your nose into her hair, whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She pulled away, eyes already turning red. “It was Papa, wasn’t it?”

You hesitated, not wanting her to see him in a bad light, but your silence was enough for her. She gave you a sad smile, releasing you only to grab your hands, squeezing them as she asked. “There’s nothing I can say that will make you stay, is there?”

Sadly, you shook your head, a few tears escaping your eyes as you pulled her back towards you, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I”ll miss you so much, my little lion. Keep practicing, keep growing, you’re going to be such a strong woman someday. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

She squeezed you back, and you closed your eyes as you felt the cloth on your shoulder grow wet. A wave of shame surged over you, but you pushed it to the side. You needed to focus on you now, you couldn’t let anyone else get in the way. She released you, whispering a quiet  _ goodbye, thank you _ , before disappearing into the tent. You stayed on your knees, looking up at Jaskier as more tears spilled over.

“Oh Y/N,” he sighed, falling to his own as he embraced you, a tight hug that had both of you rocking back and forth. “I’m so sorry it didn’t work out. Just know that you are welcome to return anytime. And Yen and I will definitely kick Geralt’s ass for this. Don’t be surprised if he comes knocking.”

“I won’t. This might not be forever, Jask, but right now I need to focus on me, on getting better. Geralt clearly doesn’t want me around right now, so I’m going to do what he told me to: I’m going to leave. Maybe once I’m healed, I’ll come find you again.”

Jaskier choked on a sob, gripping you tightly once more before releasing you, gently pulling you up alongside him as he stood. He gazed at you, finally saying, “Be safe.”

You nodded, “Take care of them for me. And tell Yen thank you, and I’m sorry.”

“Of course. Now go, you have a long journey ahead of you.” You began to make your way before spinning around, racing back to pull the bard in for one last hug.

“Thank you,” you whispered fiercely, “For everything.”

He managed a wan smile, gently nudging you towards the trees. You spared him one last glance as you reached the edge of the forest, almost giving into your heart that was screaming at you to stay, not to leave, but you took a deep breath and stepped underneath the branches, leaving the little family you had found behind.

**~*~*~*~**

You had been walking for hours, stopping for a brief dinner of bread and dried meat. You had found a small clearing where you could see the stars, glancing up to reorient yourself in the direction of home. You were exhausted, from the fight with Geralt, from seeing Ciri’s disappointment when you left, from your goodbye to Jaskier, and especially from the emotions you could feel spilling over from Geralt. You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, a scream leaving your lips as you felt hands grasp your arms, your legs kicked out from behind as you fell to your knees. You looked up to see something you had hoped to never see again, fear dousing you in a cold wave.

“Hello dear,” Astarion grinned at you from the darkness, toying with the dagger in his hand. “It’s so good to finally see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Come yell at me on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox


	15. An Old Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has finally driven you away, so why does he feel so conflicted? Jaskier and Ciri are furious with the Witcher and decide to do something about it.

“Geralt, don’t you walk away from me! Come back here right now, we are so having this conversation.” Jaskier yelled at the Witcher, furious that he was still ignoring that he had done anything wrong. Y/N had left yesterday and Geralt had been nowhere to be found the rest of the night. Jaskier had pieced some of what happened together, but still didn’t have the full story. You and Geralt had fought, probably over your relationship, though he didn’t know what was said. Geralt had been avoiding the bond, that much was clear, but he had really hurt you, apparently, and Jaskier didn’t know if he could forgive the Witcher for hurting his bonded. When Geralt had finally returned in the morning, he had refused to speak to Jaskier, ignoring any attempt at conversation that revolved around his mate. Jaskier couldn’t believe how stubborn the Witcher was being, resulting in the bard following him across the clearing as he gave the other man a piece of his mind.

“You’re going to kill that poor girl and you refuse to see it. She was good for you, good for  _ us _ ! Did you see how happy Ciri was when she was around, how thrilled she was to have someone else, to have a female to care for her and to teach her things? She loved having her hair braided in the morning, loved learning simple things we wouldn’t think to teach her, and you have pushed that happiness away. Your unwillingness to change is hurting the people you care for!” Jaskier was seething at this point, ready to strangle Geralt until he saw reason. The Witcher was being an absolute idiot, and was going to ruin one of the best things that had come into his life since Ciri.

“Jaskier, this has nothing to do with you, so just stop. I’m not bonded with her, Yen’s been making things up, and besides, she’s an adult. She can make her own decisions as to what she wants to do with her life. Clearly, she made the decision to leave, and I can’t do anything about it.” Geralt’s tone was indifferent, doing nothing to calm the rage that was building in the bard.

“Nothing to do with me? This has  _ everything _ to do with me, with Ciri! You can’t just pretend you were the only one who had a connection with her, both Ciri and I wanted her around! Have you even talked to your daughter yet? Seen how distraught she is now that another person has left her?” Geralt tensed at his words, freezing in place. He turned slowly, face pinched into a frown as his yellow eyes fixed onto Jaskier.

“I won’t have you tell me how to raise my daughter, bard, you stay out of that.” Geralt’s voice was low, almost a growl as it rumbled out of his chest, displeasure clear in his tone.

“She’s basically my niece, Geralt, I have every right to have an opinion on what is best for Ciri. Y/N is also my friend, not just your bonded - yes, I know you won’t accept it, but everyone with eyes can fucking see it so don’t even go there - I also get an opinion on how you treated her.” Jaskier lifted his hand in warning, halting Geralt as he tried to interject. “I saw how you treated that girl, Geralt, don’t tell me you can’t see that you hurt her.”

“And what about us? About the pack? She was so upset with being associated with shapeshifters, it wasn’t going to be long before she left us anyways! I’ve done us all a favour, if anything!” Geralt whirled around to look at the bard, anger clear in his eyes.

“Oh, did she say that? Say that she hated being a shapeshifter?” Jaskier challenged the Witcher, stepping forward into his space.

“She said that if she had never met me, none of this would have ever happened! If she had never heard of shapeshifters, then all of these terrible things wouldn’t have been done to her!” Jaskier saw red as Geralt continued to protest, the anger turning to rage at the Witcher’s inability to see what was right in front of him.

“She’s traumatized, for fucks sake! If Ciri had been the one to have been taken, would you have treated her the same way? Ignored her until you wanted to talk to her, instead of listening to her? Running away whenever she asked a hard question? No! You treated her horribly, interacting with her at your own convenience, we all saw it, and now you’ve driven her away! Of course she’s going to feel resentment against our kind! But that’s what a pack is for, to help us get through traumas like this! Yen knew this would happen, Geralt, she warned you against it. If something happens to Y/N, that will be on your hands. Have you even considered what might happen to her now that’s she’s travelling alone, traumatized and with no idea where she is?”

Geralt’s guilty expression was a silent answer to that question, his shuffling feet even more so. He didn’t speak as Jaskier heaved a sigh, running a hand down his face. “Just… think about it, Geralt. But don’t wait too long, the longer you avoid this the farther away she gets. And you won’t be able to run from this for long, destiny will take its toll. And you’ve seen what happens when you ignore destiny.”

Jaskier turned away from the Witcher, anger still boiling inside him, but subsided slightly now that he had spoken his mind to the other man. He stalked away, desperate to leave Geralt before he blew up at him even more than he already had. He was more worried than he cared to admit. You had seemed so frantic when you left, not really seeming to know what was going on. And that bastard of a sorcerer was still out there, gods forbid that he find you again. Jaskier was terrified that he would, terrified that you would return to that state of waiting for the next blow to fall. You had been almost feral with fear when they found you, and he didn’t want to see you that way ever again.

As much as he was angry at Geralt for the way he had been treating you, he was also worried for the Witcher. He had spent so much of his life being cast out for being both a mutant as well as a shapeshifter that he was terrified of letting in someone new, of forming an attachment in the fear that it would be ripped away once more. That didn’t excuse his behaviour, not at all, but it made Jaskier worried that Geralt was suffering more than he was letting on. 

The bard walked into the tent, feeling as though he was carrying the weight of the world. It only felt heavier when he saw Ciri looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes from where she was hiding underneath her covers. She hadn’t emerged yet, not even to see Geralt when he got back. Jaskier felt his heart sinking a little bit more. Jaskier trudged over to her bed, dropping onto the mattress next to her as he reached out to flip a corner of the fabric away from her face. A small voice emerged from the blankets, “Is he back?”

“Yes, Ciri, he’s back.” Jaskier sighed as he flopped over backwards, resting one hand on the girl’s back. He absently rubbed small circles into the blanket, the repetitive action relieving some tension from him.

“Is he going after her?” Jaskier closed his eyes, heart sinking at her words. He hesitated briefly, not sure what to say, not sure what Geralt’s decision would be. He could only tell the truth; he didn’t want to get the girl’s hopes up only to have them crushed once more. 

“Not right now, love, no.” The pair fell silent, not having any more words to address the situation. They could hear Geralt moving outside, hear the thud of an axe as he split wood. Ciri and Jaskier both let their eyes fall shut, remaining motionless as they listened to the sounds of the forest. Slowly, he became aware of a soft sniffling, rolling his head as he cracked his eyes to look at Ciri. The young girl was curled onto her side, eyes clenched shut as tears ran down her face, a fist shoved into her mouth to stifle her sobs.

  
“Oh, darling…” Jaskier got out, rolling to a sitting position as he scooped the girl into his lap, arms coming to wrap around her as he pressed her face into his shoulder. He could feel her tears soaking the cloth on his shoulder, and he shushed her as he rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her. She clung to him, fingers fisted into his shirt as she sobbed into his shirt, miserable that another person had left her in her short life. He rocked her gently, hoping the motion might help soothe her. 

“Is she going to come back?” Jaskier’s heart broke at the question, a tear of his own escaping as he bit down on his lip, trying not to cry, trying to be strong for the girl he had quickly come to consider his niece.

“I… don’t know, Ciri, I really don’t.” His voice was quiet, but the answer set off a fresh round of sobs, Jaskier clutching the girl to him tightly as she cried, kissing the top of her head. Gods, he wished for simpler times, when Ciri wasn’t crying in his arms, when Geralt wasn’t avoiding his problems, when their pack was together and happy. He didn’t begrudge you coming into their lives, fate would happen as it wanted, but he couldn’t help but long for normalcy. He just wished Geralt had been able to rectify your relationship before he had driven you away like this.

Eventually Ciri fell asleep, Jaskier gently laying her down and covering her with her blanket. He exited the tent to find Geralt oiling Roach’s tack. He knew the Witcher was avoiding the issue, he had worked on Roach’s tack before they went in search of you and it didn’t need to be done yet. He sighed before crossing the clearing, beginning to prepare a stew for lunch in an effort to ignore everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. When the aroma of the stew began to waft through the air he heard Geralt set down his equipment as Ciri appeared in the mouth of the tent. She made her way over, puffy eyes staring at the ground as she avoided looking at either member of her pack. She took a bowl of stew from Jaskier with a quiet ‘ _ thank you _ ’ before moving to the other side of the fire, away from them. A hard silence fell over the group, the three shapeshifters finishing their meals without any spoken words.

The melancholy mood that had settled on the clearing was broken when Geralt dropped his bowl, hunching over as a cry of pain left his lips, hand flying to his side. The spilled food was ignored as Ciri and Jaskier were by his side in a flash, the tears Ciri had been keeping at bay breaking through the barrier as she clung to Geralt, terrified that someone else might be taken from her so soon. Jaskier dropped to his knees as he laid a hand on the Witcher’s knee, sniffing at the air for a whiff of the copper scent that would accompany an injury. He didn’t find it, smelling only fear and desperation wafting from the group. He frowned at Geralt before a flash of realization hit him, horror dawning at the thought.

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” His voice was quiet, halting Ciri’s sobs as Geralt stiffened. This proved Jaskier’s theory, the anger that had died down to embers flaring back up in a flash. The bard pushed off the Witcher’s knee, standing as he shook with rage.

“It’s nothing, Jaskier.” The bigger man’s voice was low, annoyed with the other for bringing you up again. Ciri had gone still next to him, silently watching the two with wide eyes.

“Bullshit, it’s nothing! You don’t drop your bowl for no fucking reason, Geralt, something has clearly happened to her and we need to go find her!” Jaskier exploded at the Witcher, sick and tired of the avoidance and denial that he had been doing for weeks now. 

“She made her choice, we have no responsibility for her anymore.” Geralt’s voice was hard, a hint of a threat apparent in his tone. 

“We’re not going to go help her?” Ciri was quiet, confusion apparent in her words. Jaskier spun towards the Witcher, a question in his hard expression, daring Geralt to answer. He stared back, golden eyes angry at the challenge.

“No, Ciri, she made her decision when she left.” As Ciri tried protesting, Geralt cut her off with a sharp gesture. “End of discussion. No one is leaving this clearing until Yen gets back.” With that, Geralt spun on his heel, stalking off into the trees. 

“Fine, run away again, like you always do!” Jaskier cut himself off, furious with both Geralt for running away and himself for losing control in front of Ciri. The young girl turned to Jaskier, a pleading look on her face, tears continuing to slide down her cheeks as her bottom lip wobbled, threatening to break down sobbing again. Seeing this, the thought that had been floating around in the bard’s mind solidified. Grabbing Ciri’s hands, he spoke.

“Fuck what Geralt says, I’m going to find her. You need to stay here, Ciri, it’s not safe.” The girl gasped, a steely resolve entering her eyes.

“I’m not letting you go alone, Jaskier. It’s dangerous and you’re going to need help.” He could hear the conviction in her voice, but he hesitated, not wanting to involve the girl in whatever this was. Before he could say something else, Ciri glared at him. “I’ll just follow you, you won’t be able to leave me behind.”

Slumping, Jaskier nodded, running a hand over his face. “Okay, fine, but we’ll need to pack some supplies before we go; we don’t know what we’re going to be walking into. Something’s happened that she’s hurt, but we don’t know what or how badly, and there’s no way Geralt will tell us what he felt.”

Starting to move towards the tent, he paused and looked back at the girl before continuing. “We can’t tell Geralt we’re going, he’ll do whatever he can to keep us here. We’ll leave a note for him to tell us where we’ve gone, and then he can track us by scent, it’ll be fresh enough. I’m hoping that Y/N’s trail will still be enough for us to follow.”

As the girl nodded, Jaskier led her into the tent, grabbing a before stuffing a pair of clothes in, just in case. Ciri put in some of her own, following that up with some bandages, a few vials of healing potions, a needle and thread along with a pack of herbs that the two of you had collected. The bard went to raid their cooking supplies, finding some dried meats and fruits that would keep. He didn’t think they would be going far, he doubted you had changed to travel, but he didn’t know how injured you would be and if they could move you right away. It was better to have it and not need it, than want it and not have it. 

Bags packed, they turned to dressing themselves. Ciri quickly donned her armour, a shirt of chainmail going underneath a leather jerkin, vambraces quickly following before she secured her sword belt around her waist, ensuring the sword was snugly in its sheath. Sitting on the bed, she strapped plates of armour to her thighs and calves, ensuring protection for her legs as well before sliding a dagger into her boot. Jaskier wore something similar, leather on top of chainmail protecting his torso followed by a dagger strapped to his waist. He wore less armour, preferring to rely more on agility than actual fighting. Armed, Jaskier slung the bag onto his back as Ciri scrawled a note for Geralt, leaving it on his bed before the two of them slipped out of the tent.

They glanced around the clearing, and finding it empty, shifted, falling forward onto four legs before racing into the forest. Jaskier searched the ground, casting about for your scent. Though you had only been around them for a few days, your scent was ingrained in his mind, happy memories associated with it. He quickly found your trail and chirped at the lion behind him, leading her along the trail as they searched for you. They ran for hours, following your scent. Occasionally they had to backtrack, having lost it, but as time passed your scent got stronger.

After pausing for a quick break, Jaskier searched for your scent again. Finding it, he took a few steps forward before freezing, his entire body going rigid at his discovery. He looked up slowly, changing back to his human form, Ciri following his lead. Fear was clear on his face, his travelling partner shifting uneasily at his expression.

“Jaskier, what is it? What’s happened?” Ciri’s tone was low, urgent as she pressed the bard for information. He swallowed harshly before answering.

“A group of humans joined her scent, heading in the same direction. They reek of pain and fear, of nothing good. I don’t know what they want…” he trailed off as pure terror overcame the fear, a bitter scent permeating the air. 

“What?” Ciri’s tone was harsh, the girl sniffing as she tried to figure out what Jaskier had smelled.

“It smells of the night we rescued Y/N.” Jaskier’s voice was little more than a whisper, seeming to choke on the scent as he realized where he recognized it from. “We need to find her. Now.”

Ciri didn’t acknowledge the sentence, only falling forward once again as she bent her front legs, Jaskier quickly climbing up onto her shoulders before she raced forward, following the scent that invaded her senses, sending revulsion shivering down her spine as her stomach turned. As they approached the source of the scent, other things started to filter in. She could smell woodsmoke, spices from whatever meal they had last, could smell the horses they had been using to travel. As they approached a small clearing, she could see lights flickering through the trees. Slowing to a walk, she quickly surveyed the area, finding a thick stand of trees a little ways away from the edge of the area in which the humans had set up their camp. Your smell was interwoven with the others, distinct to their shapeshifter noses. It was clear you were in that group, somewhere. Her heart sank at that thought.

Turning towards it, she deposited Jaskier behind the cover, slinking towards the group so that she could get a closer look. She lay low on her stomach, ears flat against her head as she remained motionless, watching the action in the clearing. Slowly, she moved back towards Jaskier, changing back so that she could speak. 

“It looks like there are about ten guards, and that sorcerer in the middle.” She almost spit the word sorcerer, as if the taste offended her. “I can’t see Y/N, but I can smell her”.

“We need to find out where she is. I don’t want to risk taking them all on in case something happens.” Jaskier responded, his mouth a thin line as his face pinched, the smell bothering both shapeshifters. They shifted nervously, trying to find anything that might lead them to where you were. Suddenly, a sound ripped through the air, sending a dagger of ice through their cores. They had heard it only once before, but wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

It was the sound of you screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Come yell at me on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox


	16. The Final Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Ciri have found you deep within an enemy camp and are determined to get you out before more harm can come to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Here's another update :) It's my birthday today so I'm spoiling you all with a little treat. Is a long one, lot's of stuff happens. Enjoy!

At the sound of your scream both shapeshifters tensed, instincts screaming at them to run in and save you. They forced themselves to remain still, desperately trying to ignore the high pitched wail of pain before you were cut off with a choking sound. Opening her eyes, Ciri looked up at Jaskier, horror in her expression. 

“We have to find her now,” she whispered, blood draining from her face. “I’ll circle around to the left, you go to the right, and we’ll meet up on the other side. Avoid the guards, we don’t want them knowing we’re here.”

Jaskier took off in the indicated direction, carefully moving from shadow to shadow in an attempt to remain undetected. He searched the darkness, allowing his eyes to sharpen more than a human’s, piercing the shadows that had gathered around the guards. The camp wasn’t very extensive, small two person tents hitched along the outside of the clearing.  _ Within easy reach from the treeline, _ he thought viciously, observing their placement. The center of the camp was dominated by a large tent, a man who must be the sorcerer emerging from the doorway, a red liquid dripping from his fingers as a dagger flashed in his hand. Jaskier felt the simmering rage swell up again, further sharpening his senses.  _ Y/N must be in that tent _ . As he continued moving, he counted ten guards plus their leader, confirming Ciri’s count. There was very little equipment out, some cooking utensils laid out alongside the fire and a few boxes to act as chairs. 

As he reached the other side of the clearing where he was to meet up with his partner, a savage sense of satisfaction came over him. The group’s horses were picketed a ways away from the clearing with no guard set on them.  _ My my, these humans have gotten cocky _ . Creeping over, he spotted movement out of the corner, grinning when he realized Ciri had the same idea. 

“I saw ten guards as well, but I think we can thin that number.” Ciri offered him a feral smile at that, padding over towards where the horses were anchored.

Quietly, the two of them pulled the stakes out of the ground, untying the leads from the horses’ bridles before swatting them on the rump, yelling at the animals to make them move. As a chorus of neighs and snorts rose from the small herd, noise rose up from the camp behind them, the two shapeshifters darting for cover as four guards went streaming after the horses, yelling at them to stop. The two grinned viciously at each other before unsheathing their weapons, rushing the remaining guards left in the camp.

Shouts of alarm were heard as Ciri attacked, a flurry of strikes exchanged with the first guard before he was struck down, clutching a deep wound in his shoulder received from a stab to the area. She turned to face the next two guards approaching her while Jaskier engaged another, the remaining two running to protect the sorcerer. Ciri engaged the two who came at her, pulling the dagger from her boot to help in the fight. She may be small, but she was fast and trained by the best. Ciri quickly opened a shallow slice on the thigh of the guard to her left, followed by a stab to the rightmost’s ribs. 

The men quickly backed up, visually reassessing the threat in front of them. She bared her teeth as she saw herself go from harmless little girl to competent fighter in their minds, their posture tightening up into a real fighting stance. She could smell the fear slowly permeating into the air, intertwined with the coppery scent of spilled blood. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jaskier wrestling with the guard he had engaged before the bard buried his dagger in the other man’s chest. As he got to his feet, Ciri could see him looking around for her.   
  


“Jaskier!” she shouted, getting the man’s attention. “Go for the tent! Find Y/N!”

The last sentence was punctuated with a grunt as she caught the downswing aimed at her, dagger crossed over the hilt of her sword as she pushed back against the pressure. Through the gap in the blades she saw Jaskier duck under a sword before ducking into the tent, followed by one of the guards standing in front of the sorcerer. She wanted to follow him but was occupied with the three guards left in front of her, and knew the other four would be back soon. Using the dagger as leverage, she pushed back against the blade pressing down on her, sending the guard stumbling backwards as she lashed out at the others, using her dagger to deflect the sword headed towards her head down and to the side. She followed with a sidestep, positioning herself for a strike to his abdomen. 

The man managed to deflect the blow, Ciri’s sword slashing across his thigh instead, sending the man to the ground as he howled with pain. She turned just in time to catch a low strike with her longer blade, the impact sending shocks up her arms as fatigue started to set in. She growled low in her chest, baring her teeth as she entered into a series of fast side cuts and thrusts, hoping to catch the soldier off guard. She was successful, sweeping her sword low towards the man’s legs before reversing direction, bringing her sword up towards his unguarded neck as she separated his head from his body. 

As she turned her attention to the remaining guards, she could hear footsteps approaching the clearing. She watched as Jaskier appeared in the mouth of the tent, dagger clutched tight in his hand as you appeared behind him, face pale as you glanced over his shoulder. Ciri felt rage boil up once more as she took in the bruises highlighted on your face and the ginger way you were moving, as if everything hurt. Releasing a shout, she raced towards the remaining guard, hoping to warrant enough of a distraction that you and Jaskier could get out of the clearing. The guard stepped forwards to meet her, sword raised high in the air as he moved to engage her.

**~*~*~*~**

You lifted your head tiredly as the sounds of battle filtered into the tent you were in, exhausted from resisting Astarion once more. You were shocked as Jaskier of all people slipped through the fabric.

“Jaskier,” you gasped out, sagging in your bonds before stiffening once more as a guard came through the tent wall. “Behind you!”

Jaskier turned to meet the sword strike, a dagger flashing out as he forced the blade away from himself. Your jaw dropped as you heard the bard snarl before leaping at the man, hands coming up to grip the soldier’s wrists as he headbutted him, following the blow with a strike to the guard’s chest, sinking his dagger to the hilt. You gaped at him as he turned to you, rage draining off of his face to be replaced by concern. He hurried over to you, dagger darting out to slice the rope that held you bound to the pole.

“Y/N, thank the gods. Are you okay?” His words were rushed, streaming out of him as his hands roamed your arms and legs, searching for any wounds. You continued staring before snapping your mouth shut, brain finally catching up and processing what you were seeing in front of you. 

“You’re here. You came after me.” Jaskier frowned at your words, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Of course we came after you, you’re one of us.” A tear slid down your cheek at his words, emotion welling up in your chest. 

“I didn’t think anyone would...” You trailed off, your voice weak and hoarse from screaming. The words were quiet, almost a whimper, expressing all the pent up fear and pain, and your overwhelming relief to not be alone, to still have a family, a pack that wanted you.

The bard’s frown deepened before he stood, gently tugging you up to lean against him. You sagged into him with relief, legs unsteady from the last twelve hours. “You and I will be having a long chat after this, but for now we need to get you out of here.”

You followed him to the door, gasping when you saw Ciri race forwards with a yell, engaging a guard in a fierce exchange of blows. Jaskier tugged on your arm, urging you to the treeline as you hurried to comply. You had almost reached the forest when you felt fingers dig into your arm pulling you away from Jaskier, whose look of surprise quickly transformed into terror. You stumbled, falling into a hard wall of muscle before you were spun so your back was pressed to the person behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist as you felt the cold kiss of a dagger against your throat. You swallowed reflexively, feeling the sharp blade bite into your skin, a warm rivulet of blood trickling down your neck.

As you watched, Jaskier whirled when a hand appeared on his shoulder, a feral growl ripping its way out of his chest before disappearing into the shadows. In front of you, Ciri ended her fight with a thrust, driving her sword into her opponent’s chest. She pulled her blade out as she turned to see you, a blade against your throat. She took a step towards you, a snarl forming on her face before the sound of footsteps drew both of your attention, four guards running into the small space with their swords drawn. You could see her eyes flicking between the guards and you, unsure who she should engage first.

You felt the icy grip of terror seize your spine as a velvety voice spoke above you, the speaker familiar at this point. “Just put the sword down, little creature, and I won’t harm the fox in front of me.”

You closed your eyes, a tear leaking out.  _ Astarion _ . You would never be free of this abhorrent man, he would find you no matter where you were. At this realization, the fight left you, your body slumping in defeat. The arm across your waist tightened, a cruel laugh leaving the man behind you. You heard the clang of steel hitting the ground, opening your eyes to see Ciri having dropped her blade. The man behind you shifted the dagger leaving your throat briefly as he suddenly threw the dagger, the blade opening a thin red line on Ciri’s cheek as she ducked out of the way.

“No,” you gasped before you cut yourself off, feeling his hand clasp your throat, the slight heat from his fingertips warning of the pain that would follow should you continue to struggle. You stared at her, begging with your eyes as you prayed to the gods that Ciri would leave. She couldn’t give herself up because of you; you were meant to protect her, not the other way around. She met your gaze, determination clear in her gaze as her cheek wept scarlet, trickling slowly down her face. Rage ignited deep within you at the sight, a growl ripped from your throat before you were shook, cut off like a misbehaving pup. The sound didn’t stop though, and you looked around, a feeble sense of hope blooming in your chest. 

You spotted the source of the sound as a massive white wolf stepped into the clearing, its teeth bared in a snarl as it came up behind the young girl. Astarion tutted behind you, digging his fingers into the cut to your jugular, triggering another rush of blood down your skin. The snarling grew louder at his actions, familiar golden eyes flaring with a rage you had never seen before. 

“Not a step closer, beast, or I’ll slit her throat.” The wolf paused, staring at you with the intensity of a thousand suns. Even with the dagger to your throat, you immediately relaxed, a feeling of security rushing through you now that Geralt was here. Instinctively, you reached for the string that connected the two of you, overwhelmed with thoughts; too many to separate between yourself and Geralt.  _ I’m so happy you’re alive, what is he doing, I’m going to kill him, you’ll be safe I promise, I’m sorry. _

You stared at him, pleading with your eyes and your heart to get Ciri out, to get her to safety, and then to come back for you. She couldn’t get hurt for you, you wouldn’t let that happen. The wolf met your gaze, a slight nod the only acknowledgement you received. Relief filling you at the knowledge Ciri would be safe, you tuned back into the rant Astarion was giving behind you.

“You filthy creatures, ruining my research. This is for the good of mankind! You are doing a service by allowing me to study you, the rest of the world will be better for what I discover. It’s all you’re good for, the lesser species that you are. You’re mindless beasts, killing without provocation or purpose. Just look at what you did here! Misery and death is all that follows you, suffering left in your wake.” You felt him shift above you, wincing when his fingers dug into your hip, irritating one of the bruises that had appeared there. 

“You killed my father and could have saved the rest of my family, but you didn’t. You do nothing to help anyone outside of yourselves, never contributing to our world, to our society! It will be a kindness to everyone when I finally eradicate you from this world, so that you can do no more harm. Once I finally find the cure, nothing will stop me from hunting down every single last one of you miserable, filthy-”

His tirade was suddenly cut off as a ball of fur dropped onto his head, the dagger slipping from his hand as he was caught off guard. You wrenched free of his grip, stumbling a couple of steps before falling to your knees. Your hand flew to the shallow cut on your throat, gasping for air now that the pressure was relieved. You twisted, looking up to see Jaskier in his badger form on top of Astarion’s shoulder, snarling with a fierceness that would scare you had you not seen him offer colour recommendations for Ciri’s flower combinations. You watched in delighted horror as he ripped into the sorcerer, skin splitting beneath his claws as he scratched at his face and shoulders, blood running down the man’s skin to soak into his robes. 

Beneath the snarling you could hear Astarion, curses and screams falling from his lips as he staggered, hands coming up to rip at the badger. The animal paused his attack on the sorcerer’s face, snapping at the offending hands before returning to his assault of claws and teeth directed at the man. The screaming was cut short as Geralt leapt, his weight hitting Astarion in the chest as the sorcerer went over backwards, head thudding into the ground as Jaskier leapt off, the wolf ripping his throat out as the man went limp. He lifted his head, muzzle stained red as he looked towards the remaining guards. Ciri turned her attention to them as well, slowly going to one knee to retrieve her sword as Jaskier positioned himself beside Geralt, looking very pleased with himself.

Though pale, the four guards released a yell, racing towards the shapeshifters. Three growls rumbled out of three different chests as a warrior, a wolf, and a badger leapt at the offenders. You watched in fascination as Geralt met their charge, tearing into the men with Jaskier beside him. Your attention was ripped away from the fight as you heard a shrill cry pierce the sounds of battle. 

“Mama!” You froze at the word, heart fracturing as you heard Ciri’s voice break from pain. You frantically searched the clearing for Ciri, for the little girl who slowly worked her way into your heart. You spotted her in the arms of a guard, struggling as she fought to free herself, sword on the ground beside her. Your vision went red, hot rage filling every part of your being as you dove deep within yourself, yanking the veil of power over you. You leapt even before you finished shifting, slamming into the man as your claws tore into skin, your teeth sinking into the man’s exposed neck as you ripped his throat out. 

You stood over the body growling as Ciri staggered away, hand clutching her side as red soaked through her fingers. She shuddered once, falling forwards onto all fours as golden fur covered her. You watched in terror as Jaskier slowly lost ground, snarling at the man in front of him as he evaded his blade.  _ A badger, backed snarling into a corner. _ You shuddered, horror filling you as the scene in front of you became familiar, your nightmares coming back to you once more. You watched as Geralt turned his attention to Ciri, leaping in front of her as a hand reached out of the darkness. _ A white wolf with glowing golden eyes snarling at a shadowy figure, an injured lion cub behind it, snapping at the hand that emerged from the shadows. _ The remaining guard followed, a huge figure with a long broadsword held in his hand. 

You were frozen in horror, the concept of losing this small family suddenly a very real, terrifying possibility. You were torn between the two, only to be forced into action as the guard advancing on Jaskier swept his sword low, the badger dancing away as a shriek was wrenched from his throat. A low growl burst from your throat as you coiled your muscles in preparation, leaping at the man in defense of your family. He staggered as your weight hit him in the stomach, you twisting away to land on your feet, staring at him as you shook with rage. You watched as his eyes landed on you, recognition lighting in them at the sight of you as he raised his sword. 

You didn’t wait for the strike, darting to his right side as you saw Jaskier go for his left, jaws clamping onto his leg. You tore through the cloth, the hot, bittersweet taste of copper filling your mouth as you ripped into flesh, pulling a howl of pain from the man. You spat, leaping to the side to avoid the guard as he fell, hissing as the tip of his sword opened a shallow gash on the back of your shoulder as he swiped wildly. You were quick to dart in, sinking your claws into his shoulder as you reached for his throat, Jaskier attacking the man’s eyes. You closed your powerful jaw over his throat, silencing the guard’s screams as he choked on the blood suddenly filling the airways. 

You took a step back, gagging on the taste in your mouth before glancing at Jaskier. He seemed fine, but you made your way over anyways, scenting at the air to try to see if he was wounded. Seeing you approach, the bard trilled in thanks, letting you examine him for any injuries. Finding nothing life threatening, a series of small scratches and a shallow laceration on his side, you became aware of the silence that had fallen over the clearing, turning your attention to the other pair as a low whine broke the quiet.

You were by Ciri’s side in a flash, the young lion having collapsed the ground as blood streamed out of the wound in her side. You spared a glance at the dead guard to the side, throat torn out before turning your attention to the young girl. Geralt was back in his human form, pressing on the wound with fear clear on his face. As you dropped to your knees, you pushed the Witcher out of the way, snapping at him, “Get out of the way.”

He hesitated briefly, until you fixed your glare on him. He reluctantly relinquished Ciri’s treatment to you. Jaskier appeared next to you, also in human form, worry clear on his face. You looked up at him, barking out commands. “Jaskier, I need clean cloth, lots of it, can you go find some? Geralt, start a fire, I need you to boil me some water.”

The two men jumped to do what they were told as you focused back on the girl, tearing the sleeve of your tunic off before pressing it against the wound. She groaned beneath your hands, prompting you to reach up, gently brushing a hand down her muzzle as you soothed her. Ciri’s eyes fluttered open, the emerald green orbs latching onto your own. You could see the fear there, and you gave her a gentle smile. “You’re going to be just fine, my dear, let me help you. Is there any way you can change back?”

You saw the hesitation in her eyes as she paused, considering your question before she gave you a small nod, the golden body shuddering before fur melted away, leaving the young girl lying on her back with her eyes screwed shut. Jaskier quickly returned, shoving a bag into your hands as you directed him to put pressure on her stomach. He took the cloth he had found, shoving it against Ciri’s stomach in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Geralt appeared at your other side, a cauldron of hot water set on the ground. Disregarding the fact that he hadn’t had time to build a fire, you ripped open the pack Jaskier had handed you. You searched through the bag, finding a pouch of herbs. You frantically pulled it open, and, finding several you wanted, crumbled them into the steaming water. Letting them steep, you impatiently ripped several of the bandages, dumping them into the water as well.

Turning back to Ciri, you took the dagger Jaskier had handed you, cutting her leather jerkin off. The bard had already removed her vambraces so you helped her struggle out of the chainmail shirt, lifting it over her head before discarding it to the side. You used the blade again, carefully cutting the torn and bloodied cloth away from her wound. You faltered as it was exposed, heart sinking at the sight. You had seen this kind of wound before, and your patients rarely survived. The wound itself was long and deep, starting halfway up the left side of her ribs and travelling across her stomach to end just above her right hip. You fished the cloth out of the cauldron, wringing out the excess water before packing them against the wound, wrapping a length of bandage around her torso to hold everything in place. 

Geralt had been hovering while you worked, hands reaching out to help before withdrawing and clenching into fists. You looked over to him, the Witcher stilling as your gaze fell on him. “I can’t treat her here, I need a cleaner area to work, and she can’t be moved for a while.”

He nodded sharply, “There’s a small cottage not far from here that we’ve used as a safehouse before. It will be stocked well enough that we can stay there for a few days.”

“Ciri, we’re going to move you somewhere I can treat you better, is that okay?” She nodded briefly, hands fisting into your shirts as you pulled her against you, hand running through her hair. “You’re going to be alright, Ness, I promise.”

You looked back over at the Witcher, a silent question in your eye. He grunted in confirmation, gently gathering Ciri in his arms before standing. You quickly threw the supplies you had dumped back into the bag, wincing as the wound on your back pulled. You had forgotten about it in your haste to help Ciri, and it was making itself known. You got to your feet with a hand from Jaskier, the two of you leaning against each other as you followed Geralt through the trees. It was about an hour’s walk to the safe house, the four of you following a slow pace in an effort to avoid aggravating any injuries. 

As you travelled, you kept a careful eye on Ciri. She began perking up as time passed, starting to interact with Geralt, poking fun at Jaskier about his attack on the sorcerer. You stayed silent, smiling wanly at the girl when she turned her attention to you, but hanging back from the conversation. You felt exhausted, the pain from your wounds piling on top of each other, body exhausted from resisting Astarion for so long. He had used his spells on you again, punishing you for escaping and for the pack destroying his research. You had resisted as much as you could, desperately searching for a way out. You had started to give up by the time Jaskier had burst into the tent.

You shook yourself, forcing the memories to the back of your mind to focus on at some other time. A laugh drew your attention back to the young girl as she squirmed in Geralt’s arms. She insisted on walking, the Witcher protesting until she twisted hard enough that he almost dropped her, setting Ciri on her feet after that, but forcing her to sling her arm over his shoulder as he pulled her weight onto himself. You smiled slightly; apparently shapeshifter healing really was a wonder.

Arriving at the safehouse, Jaskier found the hidden key and let the small group into the structure. You rushed in, heading for the kitchen as you deposited the bag you had been carrying on the counter, directing Geralt to bring Ciri your way. You surveyed the space briefly, spotting a small closet to the side of the room. Upon opening it you found cloths inside. You spread a sheet over the table, directing Geralt to place Ciri on it. The girl protested slightly but acquiesced when her father pinned her with a glare.

Dumping the bag out, you found the herb pouch again, sending Jaskier a thankful glance as he worked on starting a fire in the stove. Filling a cauldron you found underneath the counter with the water, you heaved it over to the stove, setting it over the flame the bard was slowly stoking higher, crumbling herbs into it. You moved back across the room to Ciri, grabbing the dagger along the way to gently cut the bandages away from her skin. You peeled them back, relief filling you as you realized the rush of blood had slowed. Turning to Geralt, you directed him to press hard against the wound.   
  


“It might hurt her, but we need to stop the bleeding.” The Witcher was quick to follow your instructions, freeing you to go back to the stove. The water was quickly heating, bubbles starting to form in the bottom as you dropped more cloth in, letting them steep once more. Reaching for a vial of poppy milk, you poured some liquid on the wound before handing it to Geralt to have the girl drink. She made a face, but took the potion without protest. The water was boiling now, and you took one of the bandages, letting it cool before using it to clean the wound. Ciri winced at the feeling, you murmuring a quiet apology as you worked.

Once finished, you reached for the needle and thread, putting in sutures to help hold the wound shut. She remained still the entire time, squeezing Geralt’s hand until her knuckles turned white. You worked as fast as possible, trying to minimize the amount of pain you were inflicting on her. You looked over your stitches, satisfied that the blood had stopped flowing. Task completed, you pocketed the thread and needle before moving back to the cauldron on the stove. You took the rest of the bandages out of the water, wringing them out and letting them cool once more before spreading them on the wound and re-wrapping her torso. You looked her over, frowning when you saw that the wound on her face was still bleeding. You looked closer, the wound was shallow, there was no way it should still be bleeding over an hour later. 

Leaning in, you used a cloth to wipe the blood away, sniffing gently next to the wound. You frowned as you pulled away, nose wrinkling at the scent. It was bitter, a tainted smell underneath the copper of the blood. Your voice was low when you spoke, “Geralt, can you look at this?”

Ciri looked anxious at your words, “What’s wrong? What is it?”

You smiled down at her as Geralt moved to your other side, taking her hand and squeezing it in reassurance. “Nothing dear, I just wanted him to take a quick look at it. How are you feeling?”

She still looked unsure, but let you change the subject. “It hurts, but it’s better than it was. I feel stronger than I did before.”

You smiled at her, shoulders slumping in relief. Geralt frowned next to you, squeezing your elbow as a sign he wanted to talk to you alone. “That’s good, love, I think you should get some rest now. Jaskier, would you mind taking her to a room?”

“Of course,” Jaskier moved to Ciri’s side, helping her off the table as you pulled Geralt to the side of the room. You watched her carefully, looking for anything that might be amiss. Not finding anything, you turned to the Witcher, “What did you think?”

He frowned, watching his daughter as well. “It doesn’t smell right, but I can’t place it.”

You opened your mouth to respond before you were cut off by Jaskier calling your name, panic clear in his voice. You turned to see Ciri sagging against him, skin greying rapidly before your eyes. You ran towards the young girl, freezing at the sight you found, horror filling you at the sight of blood blooming across the stark white of the bandages. Her eyes were dull, the cut on her cheek a nasty grey colour, completely different from what you saw earlier. She looked up at you, your heart freezing at her expression of pain.

“I don’t feel very good, Mama,” she managed to get out before her legs collapsed, Jaskier going down with her. You and Geralt darted forward, her name leaving your lips as you saw her seizing, body convulsing on the floor as the bard tried to protect her head. Suddenly she went limp, a cry of fear torn from you as you listened for a heartbeat, finding only silence in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Come yell at me on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox
> 
> Just a note, I may be a few days late on the next update. I am having vision correcting surgery on Friday and won't be able to look at a screen for a few days. But I will try and sneak on briefly!


	17. I Won't Lose Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought you had healed her, you thought she was fine, but your little girl had just collapsed in front of you. Where had everything gone wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit late on this one, but had my eye surgery and am just getting back on screens. Yay 20/20 vision! Little bit of a longer one as an apology, hope you enjoy!

A scream tore from your throat, heart stopping as you watched Geralt drop to his knees next to his daughter with a cry, hand going to her neck as he searched for a pulse. Tears gathered in your eyes as you stared, praying to the gods that this girl you had come to see as your own would be alright, that she was still alive. You snuck a glance at Jaskier, saw him staring at Ciri as his eyes grew wet, watching in a stupor as Geralt slowly withdrew his hand, head hanging low in defeat. His voice was hoarse, breaking with pain as he spoke. “She’s gone.”

Disbelief swept through you, your mind refusing to accept what Geralt had said. You were supposed to protect her, keep her from harm, and now she was lying dead in front of you. You fell to your knees, ignoring the pain that reverberated from the impact, crawling towards her still body as tears spilled over, streaking hot and salty down your cheeks. You could hear someone screaming distantly, wondering who it was. As you reached the girl, you realized it was you, could feel your voice break as copper slicked the back of your throat, the sound cutting off as you choked. Your hands hovered over her body, not wanting to touch her, to feel the warmth leaving her skin. You had failed; you were supposed to heal her, to make her better, and you had failed terribly in that task.

Jaskier had joined both of you in your huddle, one hand on Ciri’s shoulder as his head dropped, tears leaving tracks down his face, his shoulders hitching with silent sobs. You shrunk in on yourself, sure that this was all your fault. If you hadn’t left, if you had fought harder to escape, then your little girl wouldn’t be lying dead in front of you. You wanted to reach out, to comfort and be comforted by the others in the room, but knew you would get none, because you didn’t deserve it. You were the reason this young and vibrant child was lying motionless in front of you.

You heard a quiet whimper, lifting your head to see Geralt reach out and fist his daughter’s shirt, eyes glassy as he pulled her into his lap. His shoulders shook, tears streaming down his face as he rocked her body, burying his face into her neck. Ciri remained limp, arms lolling as her father grieved, howling his grief as he clutched her body to him. Jaskier had withdrawn, face in his hands as he tried to control his breathing. He reached out to take your hand and you pulled back as if burned, unable to accept comfort after the terrible thing you had done.

Geralt looked up at the two of you, agony clear in his golden eyes. “This is your fault, both of you. If you hadn't left, if you hadn’t taken Ciri with you, she would still be alive.”

You hung your head, shame filling you at his words. Jaskier didn’t deserve the harsh tone but you didn’t dare speak out; Geralt was grieving, he wouldn’t listen to anything you said. Jaskier reached for the Witcher, who drew back sharply, pulling Ciri with him as though to keep her safe from further harm at either of your hands. “Geralt…” Jaskier pleaded quietly, his voice breaking.

“No! Just… leave. That’s what you’re good at.” His voice was trembling, misery ripping its way through the words. You slowly got to your feet, welcoming the pain that rushed through you as your wound pulled, drawing it in as you accepted the blame. You stopped by Geralt, not able to meet his eyes as you laid your hand on Ciri’s cheek, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

You made to move away, hand lifting from her skin when you felt it. A spark, jumping from her body to yours, crying out not to leave her in this dark place. You could feel it, could hear her, freezing in place as the breath left you in a rush.

There was life yet, but it felt tainted. You were certain she was still alive, the knowledge coming from deep within you, from the part of you that held your power. You gasped as you snatched your hand back, Geralt looking up at you before you dropped to your knees again, pants tearing on the floorboards as you shuffled closer. You grabbed at her wrist, once again feeling that spark of life pass from her skin to yours. The Witcher glared at you, his voice lowering to a threatening growl: “What the fuck are you doing? I told you to leave.”

“She’s alive, Geralt, I can feel it.” You whispered the words, wanting to make him understand but afraid he’d push you aside once more. He stared at you, hope flaring in his eyes before he squashed it, not wanting to believe you.

“Stop playing with me, Y/N. She’s dead, her heart isn’t beating. Just let me mourn in peace.” Geralt’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion as he turned away from you, pulling Ciri’s body closer to himself. Panic flared in you; you had to make him listen! You could save her, you  _ knew _ you could. You’d done it before, you could do it again. You latched onto her arm, feeling that life in her, though tainted with something dark.

  
“Geralt, please! I swear to Melitele I’m not lying, I can save her, you have to trust me, you have to let me try.” You spoke in a rush, barely pausing for breath as you tried desperately to get Geralt to understand, but the Witcher refused to look at you, rocking his daughter as tears continued to stream down his face, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. You could feel his grief through your bond, could feel the weight that had settled on him, and you knew you had to do something to take that away, that you  _ could _ do something to take that away. You looked at Jaskier, desperate for someone who would believe you, to help you try to save this poor girl. The bard looked back at you, misery clear on his face.

“Y/N, I…”

“Please Jaskier, you have to help me. I’m a healer, I’ve done this before. I healed Geralt when I first met him, and I can do the same for Ciri now, but I need no one else touching her.” You were begging, voice breaking over the words as you desperately fought for the men to understand.

There was a voice deep within you, an instinct telling you that if you just tried, you could save her. You didn’t know how you knew this, you just did. Jaskier continued to look at you sceptically, searching your face for something. He seemed to find it, because he turned to Geralt, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“Geralt, just let her try. She won’t do any harm, and what if she can? What if she can save Ciri?” The Witcher looked up at him, pain on his face. Jaskier nodded slowly, grasping Ciri underneath her back as he gently pulled the girl from her father’s grasp, laying her down on the floor before making Geralt move back. You approached slowly, settling on your knees before you closed your eyes, hands in your lap. Everything else fell away until it was just you and your little girl; nothing else mattered, all your focus centered on the spark you could sense in her. All of the sensations from your body fell away until all you could feel was your soul. You were floating in an abyss of magic, currents swirling around you as they fought to pull you to pieces, to pull you away from reality.

You held yourself together, focusing on your need to heal Ciri. You dove deep within yourself, heading for your well of power. You halted just above it, hovering as you observed the thrumming pool, listening for the call you had heard earlier. You felt desperation building in your chest, needing to find what would help this poor girl, frantically searching for the source of your healing. As your desperation reached its peak, you stopped. Panicking wouldn’t help, you needed to be strong for Ciri. You took a deep breath, feeling your body respond on the outside, chest lifting before your breath slowly left your body, chest remaining motionless after your exhale.

Centered, you listened until you heard that call once more. You turned sharply, unerringly following the tug as you dove deeper, passing the well of power before you pulled up tightly, an infinite ocean of blue expanding out from beneath you. It was vast, bigger than you had ever seen, bigger than the pool of magic you used to shapeshift. This was your magic, your healing, you were sure of it. You observed the glistening waves, dipping your toe in before darting back, spirit humming with power after the contact. Certain, you dove into the ocean, covering yourself with it as you allowed the waves to pull you under. It was quiet here, peaceful as you absorbed the healing, letting it flow over, filling you with a serenity you hadn’t experienced in a while.

You reached out, setting one hand on her forehead as you placed one hand on her abdomen, just above the wound. Shifting your attention, you searched for your connection with Ciri, building a healing bond between the two of you as power flowed through you. You moved into her body, finding the torn blood vessels and muscles that had been severed by the sword. You took the ends, trying to weave them back together, only to have them pull back every time you would release a completed connection. You frowned, unsure of what was preventing you from healing her, what was pushing back against you. You thought back to your last image of her, realization filling you as you remembered the wound on her cheek.

You moved up to that wound, shuddering as you felt the darkness that festered in it. It felt wrong, dark, as if a sinister spirit had taken refuge in it. Reaching out to touch it, you snatched your hand back, sickened by the contact. The wound was from Astarion’s dagger, and as you examined it you felt more and more sure there had been a curse on the blade. As you came to this conclusion the darkness flared, a rightness filling you at the naming of this thing. 

You reached out to it, the darkness pulling away from you, away from the brightness of your healing. You chased after it, clamping down on the core of the spell. You shuddered at the vileness but continued, wrapping the slimy tentacles around you as you pulled at it, teasing and coaxing it out of Ciri’s wound. As you worked, you felt it loosen, the darkness pulling back from the girl. You gave one last great tug, finally freeing Ciri, elation filling you as you distantly heard her heart stutter once before beating, and then beating again, falling into a regular rhythm as air filled her lungs. You could feel the wound closing rapidly now that you had removed the dark magic from it.

You looked at the writhing ball of darkness you held in your hands, somehow knowing it would latch on to the next living thing it found. You closed your eyes, a single tear leaking out as you took a shuddering breath, your body following suit back in the world. Steeling yourself, you allowed the darkness to latch on to you, speeding back through your connection to Ciri as it dove into your body, a shudder running up your spine.

Ignoring the sick feeling that was surging through you, you moved back towards Ciri’s lower abdomen. Now that the curse was gone, it was easy to weave the broken blood vessels and muscle back together, healing layer by layer before you reached the skin. Leaving only a silvery scar, you pushed one last surge of energy through your connection, a gift of strength, feeling the girl’s eyelids fluttering before you retreated back into yourself, severing the healing bond you had built between the two of you.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt watched as you settled on your knees in front of his daughter, hands in your lap. You closed your eyes, seeming to fall into a trance as you went still. You remained that way, not moving as he fidgeted, Jaskier keeping a hand on his arm as they both watched. Suddenly, you took a deep breath in, slowly releasing it before your chest fell still. Panic flooded Geralt as he watched you stop breathing, your chest remaining motionless as you continued to meditate. Just as he was about to reach for you, you moved; one hand going to Ciri’s forehead while the other rested just above her wound. 

As the two of them watched, a slight glow gathered around your hands, seeming to come from below your skin before you directed the light into Ciri, highlighting the torn layers of muscle and blood vessels. Jaskier and Geralt remained motionless, watching with bated breath as the wound on her cheek seemed to disappear before their eyes. All that was left was a silvery scar and dried blood from where it had bled onto her skin. Once the wound was closed, Geralt froze, hearing a sound he hadn’t dared to let himself hope he would ever hear again.

Ciri’s heart was beating.

He took a step towards his daughter, a cry on his lips as Jaskier caught his arm. Rage filled him as he looked back at the bard preventing him from going to Ciri, preparing to rip his arm from Jaskier’s grasp. He could hear the inhalation of her lungs, his daughter taking a deep, desperate breath once more.

“You can’t touch her, Geralt, not yet. You can’t break the trance.” The bard’s voice was frantic, his face fearful as he pleaded with the Witcher to remain still. All the fight left the larger man at once, posture slumping as he gave in, returning his fearful gaze to two of the women he cared for most in his life. This was his worst fear, losing someone he cared for. He felt Jaskier sling an arm over his shoulders as they slid to the ground, all the strength leaving his legs at the thought of losing both of you if you weren’t successful.

A single silvery tear ran down your face, the tear trail shimmering in the low light as your chest lifted and fell once, a trembling breath filling your lungs as the light around your hands dimmed. A shudder ran down your spine, your posture seeming to slump briefly before you straightened, the light brightening to an intensity that was too bright to look at, shadows thrown into stark contrast behind the objects in the room. Just as quickly as it came, the light faded, leaving the room seeming dimmer than before. 

As he watched, he saw Ciri’s eyes flutter, the girl seeming to fight back to consciousness as you swayed, hands falling away from her skin before you slumped to the side, catching yourself with your arms. Geralt and Jaskier darted forward, the former reaching for his daughter as the latter went to your side, tugging you backwards into a seated position as he pulled you to lean against him. Geralt heard you cough wetly, the knot in his chest loosening slightly as he heard you breathe before his attention was focused completely on his daughter.

Ciri slowly opened her eyes, confusion filling her face as she saw Geralt leaning over her, concern on his face. He helped her as she struggled to sit up, pulling her against his chest as she fought to regain her bearings. Her voice was weak when she spoke, but no longer filled with pain. She tried to speak but coughed at the dryness of her throat. Swallowing, she tried once more. “What happened?”

Geralt swallowed harshly, not wanting to tell her that she died. He hesitated briefly, opening his mouth to respond when you cut him off. Your voice was quiet, exhaustion clear in your tone. “Your wound worsened and you collapsed, so I had to try a different technique. You should be completely healed now, Ciri.”

Geralt stared at you, the words  _ completely healed _ bouncing around in his head before the meaning registered. He looked back at Ciri, seeing an astounded expression on her face as well before the two of them reached for the bandages, tearing the bloody cloth away. Their actions slowed as the last bloodstained piece was removed, looking at the smooth skin beneath it, decorated by a thin silver scar that ran from her left ribs down to her right hip. The girl ran a hand over it in wonder, Geralt not being able to believe his eyes. He had never seen anything like it; even Yennefer couldn’t heal a wound so completely. He was startled out of his revery by Ciri launching herself out of his lap towards you.

“Thank you, you saved my life.” The Witcher’s sharp eyes didn’t miss your wince when the girl enveloped you in a hug, nor how you were being careful not to move too much. You returned the embrace gently, fatigue clear in every move you made. 

“Anything for you, my darling girl. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you,” you whispered back, a small smile on your face, briefly lighting your features and making you look less worn. The girl’s attention returned back to her stomach, hand tracing the scar as she looked at it in wonderment. Not wanting his daughter to stray too far, Geralt reached out to tug her back into his lap. Though his focus was on Ciri, he didn’t miss the sad look you shot his way. Resolving to speak to you about it later, once he didn’t feel like Ciri was going to fade away, he pushed the matter to the back of his mind. Geralt wound his arms around his daughter, pressing his face into his hair as his tears fell once more, grateful that she had been returned to him, safe and whole.

**~*~*~*~**

You watched the father and daughter reunite, happiness breaking through the haze of pain slightly, allowing you to smile at the two. You really needed to go lie down, you could feel blood beginning to trickle down your side, and you didn’t want to disrupt their reunion. You pushed away from Jaskier, staying motionless as the room spun around you, nausea building in your stomach. When you were finally able to focus again, you saw him looking at you with concern on his face. Giving him a weak smile, you reassured him as you answered the unspoken question. “I’m just tired, is all. Don’t worry, Jask, this always takes a lot out of me.”

You didn’t mention that both times you had healed someone you had passed out afterwards while taking the wound onto yourself. You just wanted to get away, to find a quiet place to treat your injuries in private. He seemed to accept your explanation, helping you to your feet before you made your way to the stairs. You assured him you could make it up the stairs yourself, leaning on the wall once you were out of sight. You managed to make it to a room, shutting the door behind you before all but falling onto the bed, pain lancing through your stomach. You bit down on your fist, trying not to make a noise as you rode through the pain, tears leaking out of your eyes.

You ripped at the fabric of your tunic, the slash in your shoulder preventing you from lifting it over your head. You gritted your teeth as you finished pulling the fabric apart, observing the wound you knew you would find on your stomach. It wasn’t as deep as Ciri’s, but it was still bleeding fairly steadily and would need stitches. Pressing your torn tunic against the wound, you looked around the room, hoping to find healing supplies here. The room swayed, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and clench your jaw, hand gripping the bed sheets so tightly that your knuckles turned white as you fought to stay conscious. 

Slowly opening your eyes, you looked around the room once more, cursing the lack of healing supplies. Looking at your wound, you could see that the bleeding was slowing, but the edges were still gaping; it would continue weeping until you were able to close it. The coppery scent of blood filled your nose, making your stomach churn with nausea. You moved your hand to your pocket, remembering the needle and thread you had put there earlier. You pulled it out, using your teeth to sever the thread before picking up the needle. Your hands were shaking so hard it took several attempts to thread the needle; you kept dropping it in your lap. You were just grateful it didn’t fall to the floor, where it would be easily lost; you weren't sure you had the energy to get on your hands and knees to search for it. 

One hand holding the wound shut, your other began pushing the needle through your skin, teeth gritted to keep your pained moan from spilling out. First stitch finished, you slumped slightly, agony wracking your body as darkness danced at the edges of your vision, a whimper half escaping your mouth before you clamped down on it. You finished your second and third stitch quickly, the groan you had been holding back finally escaping as you dropped your free hand and fisted at the sheets, your entire body swaying as the room spun around you before your vision went dark.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt had settled Ciri on a chair in the kitchen, unwilling to let her out of his sight. Searching the kitchen, he found some bread and meat, wanting her to eat something to help her regain her strength. He was still astonished at the difference he could see in her; where she had been pallid and grey before, now her cheeks were flushed with colour; she had been tired, yet now she was lively and full of vivacious chatter. He allowed himself a small smile as he watched her. Jaskier had joined them, face relaxed though not totally devoid of concern. As Ciri babbled, the bard made his way over to the Witcher.

“She looks so much better,” he murmured. “It’s as if nothing happened.”

“She does,” Geralt agreed with a sharp nod, tone stiff. “And it still did happen,” he added with a glare directed at Jaskier. “Don’t think I forgot that.”

“I won’t apologize for going after Y/N,” Jaskier countered, chin jutting up stubbornly as he glared right back, “and there was no way Ciri would have let me leave her behind. What was I supposed to do, tie her up? She’s basically an adult, Geralt, she can make her own decisions. The same as you said Y/N did.” Jaskier’s tone turned harsh at the last sentence, still upset with the Witcher for driving you away. He was less angry now that you were back with them, but it didn’t excuse Geralt’s actions.

Geralt fell silent, not wanting to accept the blame but not wanting to argue with his friend either. He continued observing Ciri after placing a plate of food in front of her, watching as she dug in, delight clear on her face. All the Witcher wanted was to go to bed; he was exhausted from the day’s events: fighting with Jaskier and Ciri, running through the woods to let some steam off, the rage and terror at coming back to camp to find it empty before racing down the scent trail. He had been horrified when he saw you in the sorcerer’s arms, and only now had his racing heart started to settle. He lost track of time as he watched Ciri, the young girl finishing her food in record time before leaning back in the chair to send a smile his way. “I’m okay, Papa, really. I feel just fine, Y/N fixed me right up. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“I know, Ciri,” Geralt sighed, “I’m just tired, is all.”

“Well, you should go to bed then, if you’re that tired.” He mock-glared at her, drawing a giggle from his daughter before his face relaxed into a tired smile.

“I’m not-” Geralt cut himself off, hearing an odd sound. He frowned as he listened trying to identify what it was and where it was coming from.

“Papa, what-” 

  
“Shh,” both Jaskier and Ciri were frowning at the Witcher at this point. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what, Geralt?” Jaskier answered, slowly standing as he approached the other man. “I can’t hear anyth-”

The bard was cut off by a loud thump from upstairs, paired with a flair of pain across Geralt’s stomach. The Witcher was on his feet and racing for the stairs before he’d consciously registered his actions, his companions hot on his heels. He burst into the room you had chosen, flinching at the scent of blood under woven with a bitter scent. He frantically searched the room before spotting you on the floor, hair spilled out behind you. You were facedown with your back to the door, as if you had fallen off the bed, blood staining your bare shoulder as you remained motionless.

A strangled cry left his lips yet again that evening, heart racing with panic as he rushed to your side, turning you over to see pale skin and shut eyes. He searched for a pulse at your neck, the rhythm slow and fluttering beneath his fingers. Jaskier had dropped to his knees next to you, Ciri lowering herself to the ground as she gathered your head into her lap, pushing your hair out of your face. You had a pained expression, lips pinched shut as your eyes flickered underneath your eyelids. A low voice next to him caught Geralt’s attention.

“Geralt.... Look at this,” Jaskier sounded pained, terror mixed in with the emotion. Dread overcame the Witcher as he lowered his eyes to where the bard had just pulled away your bloodstained tunic, exposing the gaping wound across your abdomen. It was flowing freely, the stitches that you must have tried to put in yourself torn from your fall.

“Put pressure on it, Jask, we have to stop the bleeding. Ciri, I need you to go grab a healing kit, there’s one in the bathing room down the hall. And bring some water as well.” The two shapeshifters hurried to comply as Geralt gently moved you to a more comfortable position, laying you flat on the floor as he listened to your breathing. It was slow and shallow, the irregular rhythm making him uneasy as you stayed unconscious throughout their ministrations. Jaskier grabbed for the sheets off the bed, tearing pieces off to press against the wound. The white sheets were quickly stained red, the scent of panic slowly saturating the room. A quick glance showed the bard to be pale, rhythmic breaths betraying the fight to remain calm. Ciri was quick to return, handing Geralt the basin of water she had brought. The Witcher quickly heated it with a sign of Igni, a short burst all that was needed to reach the desired temperature.

Ciri quickly dumped herbs in, soaking some of the bandages she found in the kit as she dug in her memory to remember your lessons. Geralt’s world swayed as he watched her do this, so similar to what you had been doing hours before, the panic continuing to build. As he turned his attention back to your wound, he met Jaskier’s dark eyes.

The bard spoke in a low voice, “This looks exactly like Ciri’s wound, just not as deep.”

“That can’t be…” the Witcher trailed off as he actually looked at it, seeing the slash starting midway down your left side before trailing across your stomach to end above your right hip. “Ciri, I need to see your scar.”

Feeling the tension in the air, she chose not to ask questions, only lifting her shirt to reveal the new scar, silvery against her skin. The two men stared at it, Jaskier breaking the silence. “It’s exactly the same. That must mean-”

He cut himself off, not wanting to voice the rest of his sentence, but Geralt finished it anyway. “She transfers the wound to herself when she heals someone.”

Geralt looked back at your abdomen, searching for what he knew must be there, a sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Finding it, he reached out, his fingers tracing over four silvery scars. Jaskier frowned at him, mouth opening to ask a question before the Witcher silenced him as he lifted his own shirt. The bard gasped as he saw the matching scars on Geralt’s own skin, twins of your own.

“She knew,” the Witcher’s voice was hoarse as he spoke. “She knew she would take the wound on, that she would be injured, but she still did it. And after how I treated her,  _ fuck- _ ”

His voice broke, the room falling silent at his realization. You had healed him, you had the scars to show for it. He had marked your skin, unintentionally or not, and you hadn’t told him.  _ What had you thought when you saw it? Were you disgusted to be marked as a monster, like him? Could you bear to look at your skin, now that you bore his marks? No wonder you’d blamed him for your misfortunes, look at what he’d done to you... _ Geralt started spiraling, panic and shame building up in his chest at the thought of your unmarked skin becoming like his.

Ciri moved in, taking the tunic from Jaskier’s hands to press back against your stomach. Her sharp voice rang out, startling the two men from their reveries. “You can think about it later, but right now she needs our help. Geralt, we need an energy potion. Jaskier, you and I are going to stitch this wound and pray to the gods it will hold.”

They jumped to their tasks, Jaskier quickly building a fire in which he could sterilize the needle as Ciri cleaned your wound, gentle hands juxtaposing her sharp tone. The wound was quickly sutured and wrapped in clean, white bandages. Ciri returned to your head, using the extra water to clean the debris out of your hair, murmuring reassurances to you all the while. Geralt returned before long, vial in hand. He dropped to his knees next to Ciri, hand reaching out to brush against your cheek as he looked at you with sad eyes. 

Ciri impatiently held out her hand for the potion, unstopping the bottle before opening your mouth and massaging the liquid down your throat. You swallowed easily, colour returning to your face as you breathed a little easier after several minutes. The three shapeshifters sat on the floor with you, Geralt clutching your cold hand in his as Ciri braided your hair away from your face, careful not to disturb you too much. A low moan broke the silence as your eyes flickered, Y/E/C orbs slowly fluttering open. Geralt was quick to shift to his knees, bringing a hand to cradle your cheek as he looked down at you.

“Y/N, how are you feeling?” A low groan was the only answer he received, your own hand coming up feebly to hover over your stomach before falling back to the side, Jaskier taking it into his. The bard rubbed circles into your skin, trying to keep you awake, to keep you talking. Your eyes fluttered shut once more, Geralt gently tapping your cheek to keep you awake.

“What happened, why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Frustration bled into his voice, the Witcher desperate to understand why you had hid your wound.

“You didn’t want to see me,” you managed to get out, head lolling to the side as your eyes closed, a few tears leaking out. Geralt visibly recoiled at your answer as if struck, horror creeping into his eyes. Your face pinched, a painful expression appearing as you groaned, your whole body tensing up in response to a new wave of pain.

“What hurts? Y/N, you have to tell me.” Geralt needed to fix this, it was all his fault. You thought he didn’t want to see you, how could you think that? The last thing he would have said to you before you got hurt would have been in anger, as you were hurt saving his daughter. Guild rushed over him in a wave, drowning him as he looked at your face, watched your body spasm in pain.

“Y/N, please, tell us what’s wrong so we can help you.” Jaskier’s voice drew Geralt back to the present, seeing him grip your hand as you cried out, knuckles turning white as you squeezed back.

“The dagger,” you gasped, struggling to breathe once more, “was cursed.”

Geralt’s gaze flickered to your cheek, seeing the same silvery scar marking your skin. You clenched your teeth, stifling another cry as your body tensed, back arching off the floor. You were gasping for air, struggling to get the words out through the pain. “Wouldn’t let go, had to--take it--”

You screamed after that, writhing on the floor as tears streamed down your face. Ciri desperately tried to keep you from slamming your head against the boards. Collapsing, your eyes fell shut, panic becoming palpable in the air before they fluttered open once more. You looked up at the girl above you, shakily reaching for her cheek before she grabbed it and pressed your fingers against her skin. You smiled sadly, a whisper slipping from you: “I love you.”

You turned your gaze to Geralt, eyes sad as you met his gaze. Your breath hitched, eyes clenching shut as your back arched in pain, another rush of blood spilling from your side. As you collapsed back to the floor, you looked back at him. “Geralt, I’m sor-”

You cut yourself off as you choked, gasping before your eyes rolled back into your head, body suddenly going limp. Geralt’s panic ratcheted through the roof before you took a shallow breath, heart slowly beating in your chest. You almost looked dead, skin pale as your chest barely rose and fell. Ciri’s hand slowly went to her cheek, fingering the new scar on her face.

She looked up at her father, agony on her face and in her voice when she spoke. “The sorcerer threw a dagger at me and cut my cheek. Did she take the curse?”

  
Geralt’s heart sunk at the prospect, dread filling him as he looked back at you. He sniffed the air, remembering the scent you had pointed out to him after healing Ciri. He could smell it here but stronger, seeming to overpower anything else in the room. “We need to send a message to Yennefer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Come yell at me on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox


	18. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is desperately trying to contact Yennefer after you take Ciri’s wound, not waking up after you fell unconscious once more.

Leaving Ciri and Jaskier to watch over you, Geralt had torn out of the room and ran for the bag Jaskier had brought, hoping against fate that the bard had packed what the Witcher needed. Before she had left, Yennefer had imbued a small stone with a spell that would allow the pack to make one portal jump without the aid of a mage. They wouldn’t be able to use it to travel to Aretuza, the stone didn’t have enough energy stored, it would take them back to their camp so they would be able to collect their gear and build a litter to carry you in.

Geralt grabbed for the bag, frantically searching for the small stone, desperate to get you to safety. He had no idea what this curse would do or how long it would be until you succumbed to it, but you were clearly in need of help. Hand catching in the various bandages, he growled before upending the bag, dumping its contents across the floor.  _ Thank the gods for Jaskier’s ingeniousness _ , he silently thanked whatever deity was watching over them as the stone bounced across the floor. The Witcher lunged for it, abandoning the rest of the items on the floor and rushing back up the stairs.

He burst into the room, hurrying back towards your prone form, Jaskier and Ciri startling at his entrance. The bard frowned at him, opening his mouth to say something before Geralt shoved his fist under his nose, opening his hand to show the small stone. Understanding dawned on Jaskier’s face before he nodded. The Witcher got on his knees, carefully taking you from Ciri as he tried hard not to jostle your wounds. You remained unresponsive throughout the entire ordeal, Geralt’s heart clenching at your lack of response. 

He looked down at your face, guilt surging through him as he saw your brows drawn together in pain. You were so pale, your heart beating so slow he had to strain to listen for it, panic building in his chest before it died down slightly once he finally heard it. He adjusted you carefully so that your head lay on his shoulder, cradled so that it wouldn’t loll and strain your neck. He made sure your hands were gathered so they wouldn’t hang behind you and strain your shoulders. Shifting, he glanced up to see Jaskier watching him with a knowing expression on his face; Geralt shot the bard a venomous look.

Having handed the stone to Ciri, he retreated behind her with Jaskier as she took the stone between her palms, whispering to it as she woke its power by speaking its activation phrase.  _ “Aen’drean veloë, geath aen caed _ .” A shimmering circle appeared in the air before the pack, the three of them stepping through as Geralt carefully carried you with him. His stomach turned as he passed through the portal, always hating travelling that way. He quickly looked at you, checking for any discomfort or changes, but you remained motionless, limp in his arms. 

Making his way to the tent, Jaskier pulled the fabric back to allow Geralt entrance with you. Making his way to his bed, Geralt used one hand to pull the blankets back. He settled you on the mattress, arranging you so that you would be comfortable before covering you with a blanket. Retreating to join Jaskier and Ciri at the fire, he sighed as he lowered his large frame to the ground, muscles protesting the frantic night as he leaned back against the log. His two companions looked up at him, mirrored expressions of worry on their faces.

“How are you going to get a message to Yennefer? We need her to come heal Y/N, she may not survive much longer. If what happened to Ciri happens to her, I don’t know how long she’ll last.” Geralt stiffened as Jaskier spoke, the knot in his chest winding tighter at the words. “Her healing will help some, the wound is slightly better than Ciri’s was, but we can’t know the exact effect it will have.”

“We’ll head to Aretuza tomorrow morning, it’s too late to start packing now. Hopefully the sleep will do Y/N some good and she’ll be awake in the morning. There is another shapeshifter colony close to the path we’ll take, I’ll make a side trip to see if they can get a message back for us.” Geralt stared at his hands, emotions swirling inside of him. He didn’t know how to feel; guilt that he had forced you into this position, shame that you didn’t trust him enough to come to him with your injuries, worry that you weren’t waking up, confusion at the feelings he had when he was around you, anger that Ciri had gotten hurt because of you. He felt awful for having yelled at you only for you to turn around and heal his daughter, knowing that you would be hurt because of it. He wasn’t used to having this many competing emotions and he didn’t know how to address them all. He’d worry about them later, after they had gotten you to Aretuza, after you had been healed. 

Geralt stayed silent, staring at the flames as they danced in the darkness. His companions seemed to sense his mood, remaining quiet as the night grew dark. Ciri eventually broke the silence, wishing the other two a quiet “goodnight” before heading for the tent. Jaskier was quick to follow her, pausing by Geralt to drop a hand on his shoulder. The Witcher was tempted to shrug it off, but he was so tired of fighting with people. He allowed the contact, only grunting in response as he continued to stare into the fire. Falling into a meditative trance, he stared into the fire until the early hours of the morning, too keyed up to sleep.

When light finally started breaking through the trees, Geralt roused himself with a tired sigh, standing and stretching before going to grab the ax. He headed into the forest, searching for wood to build a stretcher. He searched for a while, finding three trees whose trunks had fallen recently enough that they were still green. Using the ax, the Witcher separated them from their stumps and hauled them back to the clearing. Settling next to the fire he began stripping the logs and shortening them to the appropriate length, saving the branches to help build the structure.

He quietly went into the tent to retrieve an old blanket, pausing to check on you. His heart fell as he stopped at your bedside; you hadn’t moved from where he set you down last, skin still pale as you gasped for air. If anything, you seemed worse than you had last night, labouring to breathe before a whimper left your mouth. Geralt was on his knees in a flash, hand gently gripping yours as his other went to your head, stroking your hair to try to soothe you. He could feel a dull ache in the back of his skull, but couldn’t feel anything else from you. He felt… empty.

As he laid a hand on your forehead, he almost recoiled: you were burning up with fever. A quiet voice spoke up from behind him, “Is she okay?”

Geralt turned slightly to see Ciri had woken, watching the two of you with a concerned look on her face. He sighed, worried about both of you. “She’s running a fever; we’ll need to bring it down before we set off.”

Ciri nodded, pushing her blankets back before slipping out of bed. “I’ll go brew some tea for her, put some fever relaxants into it while Uncle Jask gets some cool water.”

Geralt jumped as Jaskier walked past him, not having realized that the bard was also awake. The younger man stopped beside him, “Go finish the litter, Geralt, we’ll take care of her.”

The Witcher hesitated slightly before being pushed out of the tent by Jaskier, who left him standing in the middle of the clearing as he snatched up a basin, filling it from their pot before heading back into the tent. He watched Ciri start a fire, placing a cauldron over the flames before searching for the herbs she wanted. Geralt shook himself from his reverie; staring off into the distance wasn’t going to do anything to help you. He moved back towards the logs he had hauled back to the clearing, dropping the blanket on the ground before going to retrieve some rope.

He took the three trunks and laid them side by side a few feet apart, placing some of the thicker branches perpendicular to the longer pieces. He cut short pieces of rope, using them to secure the branches to the trunks to make a secure base. He followed those up with diagonal branches spanning from the outside pieces to the long middle one, repeating his actions with the rope. The knots were tied tight enough to keep the structure secure but loose enough to allow some movement in the frame as the horses moved. Frame finished, he took the old blanket, folding it so it was doubled up and laying it over the wood, using rope to keep it fixed to the branches.

He took the remaining rope, cutting longer pieces for each of the corners that he could attach to the horses’ saddles. He went to fetch Roach and Oakley, Jaskier’s sandy-coloured gelding, saddling both of them before leading them over to where he had left the completed litter. He quickly lashed the frame to the horses’ saddles to check that it would hang flat. After making slight adjustments, he released the ties, satisfied with his work. Jaskier and Ciri had reappeared from the tent as he was loosening the saddles, approaching the Witcher. He turned to look at them, needing to know but almost afraid to ask. “How is she?”

“Her fever came down a little bit, but she needs more healing than we are able to give her. We need to get her to Aretuza, soon.” Ciri’s voice quivered slightly as she spoke, though she held strong. Jaskier laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently before dropping it, turning his attention to Geralt.

“Want us to take the camp down now? Get ready to head out?” At the Witcher’s sharp nod, he looked at Ciri. “Would you mind packing some food for us to eat on the road? Geralt and I will get the tent packed up.”

She nodded and headed towards the campfire, packing food and utensils into separate bags. The two men headed towards the tent, quickly packing the material in the tent into boxes so it wouldn’t be disturbed during their travel. You didn’t stir throughout their work, even when Geralt paused next to your bed and gently shook you, trying to rouse you. Defeated, he gently picked you up, carrying you out so they could finish taking the tent down.

Exiting the structure, Geralt moved towards the litter, gently laying you on top of the makeshift cot. They quickly finished disassembling the tent, the material packing into an impossibly small bag that was stored in a set of saddlebags. He went to retrieve the other two horses from their herd: Onyx, Yennefer’s ebony gelding and Aiko, Ciri’s bay mare, while the other two shapeshifters finished packing the rest of their gear into saddlebags. He quickly saddled the two and led them to join the other horses, tightening straps on all four. He loaded the saddlebags onto the horses, leaving Roach and Oakley with a bare load as he added extra luggage onto Onyx. He snorted at the extra weight but settled quickly under Geralt’s hand as he allowed the Witcher to tie his lead rope to Aiko’s saddle.

Once everything was loaded, Geralt gathered you into his arms before carefully transferring you to Jaskier. The bard solemnly took you from him, understanding the trust that was being offered by allowing him to hold his mate, as much as Geralt refused to acknowledge the fact. The Witcher quickly lashed the litter to Oakley and Roach, helping Jaskier situate you on top of the blanket. You moaned low in your throat as they agitated your abdomen, the sound causing Geralt to flinch. As the men finished laying you down, Ciri took the blankets she had left out and arranged them around you, tucking the edges in to keep you warm. Geralt took the last of the rope and loosely looped it around you to keep you secure.

Each person mounted their horse, Geralt and Jaskier slightly more cautiously than Ciri before leaving the clearing, the girl taking the lead with the two horses as the men followed behind with the litter. It was slow going as the horses got used to the different weight and pull of the litter, but the group settled into a rhythm as time passed. They didn’t travel much faster than a walk, not daring to jostle you with a faster gait. They didn’t speak much, the heaviness of the situation weighing on the pack. It was a few days' travel to Aretuza at this pace, and the unknown question of whether or not you would make it sat at the front of everyone’s minds.

The first day passed quickly, the pack stopping briefly to eat during the day and riding late into the night. The bare minimum was set up when they made camp, leaving you on the litter and only pulling out bedrolls for the rest of the pack. Geralt built a fire so Ciri could prepare more tea for you to help with your fever, which had gotten worse as the day passed. The Witcher was worried but wouldn’t show it, relinquishing your care to his daughter, who seemed eager to do it. Jaskier had shot him a glance when he didn’t move to take the cloth from Ciri, Geralt glowering back in response. The bard hadn’t addressed it, but he knew that there was a conversation waiting for him once you were safe. He would endure it, though, so long as it meant he got you back. He couldn’t even consider the alternative.

The pack rose at dawn, efficiently breaking down camp before setting out again, all three silently anxious to get you the help you needed. The day passed much the same as the first, stopping for a brief lunch and dinner to travel late once again. Your condition changed as they started on their last leg for the day: you started to whimper and thrash in your sleep, threatening to send you toppling off the side of the litter. The horses had stopped at your writhing, seeming to sense that something was wrong. Geralt had frozen, staring at you stupidly until Jaskier dismounted, sliding in front of the horses to check your temperature. He frowned as he laid the back of his hand on your forehead. “It’s no warmer than it was yesterday, she shouldn’t be thrashing like this.”

Ciri spoke in the following silence, “It might be an effect of the curse. I felt fine until it really hit me…maybe it’s just slower with her.”

The three exchanged glances with each other, unnerved at the concept Ciri had proposed. Gently, Jaskier looped more rope around you, tightening it as much as he dared so you wouldn’t pitch yourself off the side. He mounted Oakley again and the group kept moving, travelling past when they would have normally stopped in an unspoken agreement. Rather than making camp, they let the horses rest for an hour before remounting and continuing on. They repeated this pattern, travelling for four hours followed by resting for an hour, not wanting to stop in case the delay was what killed you.

Halfway through the third day, while the group was resting, Geralt announced that he was going to head to the shapeshifter colony nearby to see if he could get a message to Yennefer. Jaskier had insisted that he should go, saying that it wouldn’t be good for you to be too far away from the Witcher in your state. The older man had brushed his concern to the side, saying there was no reason for this as he moved towards the horses. Jaskier had caught Geralt’s arm, anger flaring in his cerulean eyes as he pinned Geralt with a stare, speaking in a low, intense voice. “You can’t be this stupid, to leave her now. You don’t know what that will do, it might kill her.”

Geralt had pulled his arm away, scoffing at the bard. “It won’t do anything, Jask, she’ll survive until I get back. Besides, I'm the better rider, it will be faster for me to go.”

“Geralt, I-” 

The Witcher cut him off again, heading towards the horses. “It’s fine, Jaskier. Drop it.”

The bard had suddenly forced his way in front of Geralt, almost chest to chest as he grabbed Geralt by the shirt, rage in his eyes. The Witcher was stunned, Jaskier never reacted like this. “If you decide to do this, and Y/N dies before you get back, I will hold you responsible for the entire thing, do you understand that Geralt?”

The man in question had swallowed harshly, guilt swirling inside him as his mouth went dry.  _ This wouldn’t kill you, would it? _ He pushed the thought aside, pushing past Jaskier to the horses. “It will be fine, Jask.”

The bard watched with a piercing stare as he unloaded Onyx, Geralt shifting under the weight of his gaze. Ignoring it, he mounted the dark horse and turned him away from the group, heading for the colony. Having only been walking the past few days with no rider, the gelding was eager to run, and what should have taken him seven hours took him only four. He left a message with the shapeshifters, the leader of the band recognizing the Witcher as one of their own. Geralt had also been given more healing supplies, various potions to help keep you asleep and give you energy. Ever grateful, the Witcher had promised to come back and visit with payment, but they waved away his offer, stating that it was their duty to look after their own.

He raced back to the group, catching up to them fairly quickly as Ciri and Jaskier were forced to walk due to the fact that the horses now had extra weight, and that your thrashing had only increased after Geralt had left. A break was taken before the horses were reloaded and the group set off again, and it eased something coiled tight in Geralt to see you sleeping more peacefully after being given the potions. The fourth day dawned quickly, all four horses and three shapeshifters exhausted at the hard pace that was set. They were getting close though, the tang of sea salt carried on the breeze hinting that they were nearing their destination. Feeling this, the horses flicked their ears forward as they picked up their trot, eager to end their journey.

Mere hours later, the tall stone walls of Aretuza came into sight, and a feeling of relief sweeping through the group. They couldn't relax yet though, the potion you had been given had worn off through the day and you had begun to toss once more, whimpers and moans falling from your lips. Ciri had checked your bandages only to find them soaked red with blood. Your thrashing had torn the stitches and you were bleeding again; not enough to be an immediate risk, but enough that you needed healing as soon as possible. Geralt hadn’t reacted at that, a haze of numbness falling over him as he saw your distress.

_ Had he really done this? Was this his fault? He hadn’t meant for you to get hurt…maybe he had formed a bond with you, but you weren’t his mate, were you? Everyone else seemed to think so, maybe he was wrong… _

Shaking himself, Geralt returned his attention to the present, listening to the clacking of the hooves as they left the dirt road behind, making their way down the cobbled bridge to the gates of Aretuza. As they approached the stone structure, the large doors swung open, the small party having been expected. Yennefer, Triss, and Tissaia rushed out, followed by a few younger shapeshifters Geralt recognized but couldn’t remember the names of. As the group pulled their exhausted horses to a stop, Triss and another healer immediately grabbed either end of the litter as the others cut the ropes. You were quickly pulled away, Ciri swiftly dismounting to follow the group into the keep, her lips pinched into a thin line as her brows pulled together. 

Tissaia stopped to speak with Jaskier briefly, getting as many details from him as she could before rushing after you. It happened suddenly, maybe two minutes had passed from the time the group stopped in the courtyard before you were whisked from view. Jaskier and Geralt slowly dismounted, the stableboys hurrying out to take their mounts. Yennefer stepped forward, face pinched with worry as she embraced Jaskier. The bard sagged in her grasp, exhaustion clear in every line. She murmured something in his ear before pulling back, offering him a thin smile before pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

She ushered him inside, watching as he disappeared through the doors. Geralt shifted in the silence, remembering Yennefer’s threat before she left. He swallowed harshly as she slowly turned around, gaze pinning him to the ground where he stood. It was if the stare of the gods was upon him, he couldn’t move beneath the weight of her eyes. Dread filled his chest, everything in him screaming at him to run. A cruel smile came over her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Geralt.” She started, voice smooth as silk as she took a step towards him. Her eyes were hard gems of violet, flames of rage flickering in their amethyst depths. 

“Yen,” he ground out, smiling in an attempt to hide the terror that had flared in him at her words. 

  
Her smile was sickly as she continued, voice almost a purr, “We have so  _ much _ to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Come yell at me on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox


	19. The Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have fallen into a magical coma while the mages at Aretuza try desperately to heal you. Geralt and Yennefer have a heart to heart about his bond.

Cognizant of the eyes that were watching them after seeing the frantic rush of healers, Yennefer grabbed Geralt’s arm, fingers digging in harshly as she led him into the castle. The mage didn’t speak, a mask having dropped over her face to hide any emotion the Witcher may have been able to glimpse. He didn’t protest as she led him through the stone halls, exhausted from the previous few days. The battle, the rush to help Ciri, losing his daughter, getting her back, followed by your collapse and their frantic march across the continent to get you help; they all took a toll on his body, mutagens be damned.

Quickly arriving at her rooms, Yennefer shoved the man she was holding through the entrance before closing and barring the door. She whirled around, violet eyes locking into Geralt as they narrowed into slits. When she spoke, it wasn’t a question, it was more of a demand for information, a storm of emotions and danger whirling behind her mask. Her voice was flat, hiding any thoughts she had. “Explain.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Geralt stared back, resistance rearing at the mage’s tone. “Y/N decided she didn’t want to travel with us anymore so she left. Jaskier and Ciri went after her and found her with Astarion. She got hurt. Now we’re here.”

Yennefer remained silent, regarding Geralt with a hard look. The Witcher shifted under her gaze, refusing to meet her eyes until she broke the silence. “That’s not the whole story.”

He flinched at the mage’s hard tone, guilt surging up in him at her words. Glancing up, he could see the rage and hurt slowly creeping onto Yennefer’s face as she spoke. When she spoke it was as if each word tasted bitter, the mage enunciating each syllable as she drove them at Geralt. “I may not have known her very well, but Y/N didn’t seem like one to just run away. She told me she was staying right before I left and I don’t believe that that would have changed in the short time I was gone. Did you talk to her, Geralt? Address the bond you two were building?”

“Yen, we’ve talked about this, there is no bond.” Geralt went to protest further but stopped as Yennefer stepped into his space, shoving his chest.

“Don’t deny it, Geralt! You’re not stupid!” Her voice was like a whip, cracking Geralt across the back.

“I would give anything to have my bonded back,” her voice broke, tears threatening to spill over. “There’s a bond there, and you’re just too damn stubborn to acknowledge it because you’re afraid. I can sense it, Geralt, and if you can’t, then you need to do some serious soul searching. But just because you’re afraid doesn’t mean you get to act like this. Don’t throw your bond away, you don’t know what it feels like to have it break, and by the gods you don’t want to. I do, and there isn’t anything in this world that I wouldn’t trade to have them back, to be able to hug them, kiss them, feel their skin on mine. Don’t lose yours because of your stubbornness.”

She turned away, shoulders heaving. “Anything, Geralt, I would give anything to be in your shoes right now. Even if she is hurt, at least she’s still alive. Don’t let your stubbornness and fear pull her under because you will live with that regret for the rest of your life.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak before closing it, guilt and shame surging through him. He took a step forward, trying once more to find words but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Yennefer’s voice was low as she called for the person to enter. A young shapeshifter stuck her head in the room, unease on her face at having to interrupt what was clearly an argument. The older mage looked at her with a tired look on her face, the monster that had awoken in Geralt’s chest flaring at the expression. He pushed it down, not wanting to address the doubts and thoughts that had been chipping away at him the last few days.

“Sorry for the interruption, but Tissaia sent me to fetch you, Yennefer. We’re having trouble getting the curse released and she needs your magic. You’re to come help immediately.” Yennefer’s face dropped at the news, immediately rushing after the younger girl without so much as a backwards glance at the Witcher. Geralt had staggered backwards, the words piercing through his heart.  _ “Can’t get the curse released.” _

Had he killed you? He thought back to your words, “ _ You didn’t want to see me. _ ” Had you really thought that? You hadn’t said a word to him about your injury and had gone to treat it yourself. You had saved Ciri’s life, had saved his life, and didn’t even ask for your own. Without him realizing, his hand had gravitated to the scars that adorned his side from the night he had first met you. You had known you would take Ciri’s wound, you had known that it had killed her, yet you tried to heal her anyways. Even after Geralt had yelled at you and blamed you for her death.

You were one of the kindest people he had ever met and all he had done since he met you was push you away. Could you be his mate? Everyone else seemed to think so and there was at least a connection there. Geralt always felt more at peace around you, as if your presence soothed something deep inside him that had been aggravated for years. And now you were on the brink of death, from his actions. He couldn’t bear it if you died, mate or not, you didn’t deserve anything that had happened to you. 

He collapsed backwards into the armchair in the room, dropping his head into his hands. His breathing was ragged as he fought to control himself, counting his inhales and exhales in order to calm his breaths. He stayed that way for hours, desperately searching for that string he had felt weeks earlier, when he had pulled you back from the brink of death. Everytime he found it it would slip out of his fingers, falling deeper into the abyss that spanned your connection, dread filling him at every failure.  _ What have I done? _

He was startled out of his reverie as the door to the room opened, shooting up from the chair to see an exhausted Yennefer entering. His nostrils flared as she closed the door, leaning against the wall. The scent of pain and fear was all over her, the copper of your blood weaving through the despair. She stayed against the wall with her eyes closed, a tear leaking from beneath her eyelids. Sucking in a ragged breath, she opened her eyes to see Geralt standing and watching her, an anxious look on his face. 

“She’s still alive, but it’s close, Geralt. I don’t know that she’ll make it through the night.” He felt his heart drop at her words, the monster sinking its claws into his chest as the fear overwhelmed him. “We broke the curse, we think, but she lost a lot of blood and a lot of energy. We’ve tried to get potions into her, but she won’t keep them down; she just throws them back up, which makes her even more exhausted. If she makes it through the night, she should be okay, but there’s no guarantee she’ll make it that long.”

Guilt sunk its teeth into Geralt’s heart, absolute horror that he might have contributed to another shapeshifter’s death, to his potential mate’s death, flooding him in waves. Yennefer’s next words were lost behind the ringing in his ears, your screams filling the silence. He thought back to your last words before you lost consciousness; “ _ Wouldn’t let go, had to take it _ ”, you telling Ciri you loved her, trying to say something to him before collapsing. “ _ I’m sor- _ ” You knew you were taking the curse on, you knew you would be hurt because of it and you still helped his daughter, even after he had treated you so awfully.

Looking up, Geralt felt something hot run down his face. Reaching up, he wiped at his cheeks only to see clear liquid on his fingers. With a shock, he realized he was crying. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, he always did his best to stay strong for those around him. As he met Yennefer’s gaze, her face crumpled. She crossed the room to wrap her arms around Geralt’s middle, shoulders shaking as she let herself break down, tears streaming down her face to wet the Witcher’s shirt. Returning the embrace, Geralt maneuvered the two of them so they were sitting on the floor leaning against the bed.

He let the tears run down his face, rubbing circles into Yennefer’s back as she cried, body limp against his. As she quieted, he leaned his head back against the bed to stare at the ceiling. Swallowing harshly, he tried to find the right words to say, but failed yet again. The woman in his arms pushed herself to a sitting position before using her sleeves to wipe her face. “I’m sorry, Geralt, I just don’t want you to know how it feels to lose a mate. I know you don’t think you have a bond, but it hurts. It’s the worst feeling in the world and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Geralt swallowed harshly, the guilt that had been sitting in his chest for days knotting even tighter. “I  _ can’t _ have a mate, Yen, I can’t lose anyone else.”

She stilled in front of him, understanding dawning on her face. “I know, Geralt. More than you can imagine, I know. But you can’t live this way, keeping anyone new at an arm’s length. You have to let her in, to let her be a part of your life.  _ You have to accept that she’s your mate _ .”

His breath hitched at her words, a new round of tears staining his face as he broke, his entire body shaking under the force of his sobs. Reaching up, Yennefer cupped his cheek as he leaned into her, subconsciously seeking comfort from his pack member. “You need to go see her, to be with her, no matter what happens tonight.”

He stared down at her, blinking away the sudden rush of tears. Yennefer’s expression grew sad, her eyes glazing over as memories flitted through them. “You need to be with her even if she dies.”

He inhaled sharply, panic and fear flaring in his chest at the thought of you dying. Standing quickly, he helped the mage to her feet and followed her out of the room. She led him through the halls, Geralt growing more tense with every step he took towards you. He could smell the pain and death that had seeped into the walls, generations of violence against shapeshifters sunk deep into the stone. Yennefer stopped outside of a closed door, Geralt almost crashing into her in his distraction. He could smell you, smell the bitterness of your pain and fear even through the door.

She paused to look back over her shoulder at him, face inscrutable before she turned away, pulling the door open and stepping back to allow the Witcher through. As he stepped over the threshold, his gaze fixed onto you lying motionless in front of him. Ciri sat at your head, wringing out a cloth to replace the one on your forehead. He could see your chest rising and falling, hear you labouring to pull the air into your lungs as you struggled for breath. The air smelt of blood and herbs, the sharp tangy scent of fever reducer underlying it all. 

His daughter looked up at him, sadness clear on her face. “She’s not doing well, Papa, I’m afraid she won’t make it through the night. I volunteered to sit with her, so she wouldn’t be alone in case anything happened.”

Geralt nodded sharply, the words sticking in his throat as he tried to speak. He couldn’t get the words out. His gaze stayed locked on you, taking in the paleness of your skin beneath the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the last few days. He slowly moved towards you, one hand slowly coming up to rest on your shoulder. Your skin felt cool beneath his touch, colder than he had ever felt you before. He lifted his hand to push your hair back from your face. You were so still, so different from what he was used to.

He couldn’t connect his memories of you to the person in front of him; you were bright and vibrant, never sitting still. You were gentle and loving, always giving Ciri time, no matter how tired or hurt you were. You were friendly, a soft touch or a word of advice ready for anyone who needed it.  _ You were the love of his life and he hadn’t realized it until he was too fucking late. _

Geralt collapsed to his knees, sobs ripping out of his throat as he laid his head on your chest, fingers grasping at the loose shirt they had dressed you in. All of the emotions he had been holding back rushed out of him; the guilt, the shame, the fear, the panic. You might die, and it was all his fault. He had pushed and pushed and pushed until you snapped and you had gotten hurt because of it. He sensed Ciri stand from where she had been sitting next to your head, moving behind him to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t die,” he managed to get out between sobs, the words intelligible as he cried. “Please, I need you, you have to stay. I can’t lose anyone else, please Y/N, you can’t die. I love you.”

He collapsed into tears once more, everything catching up to him as he cried. He felt Ciri move away briefly before coming back, setting something next to him before moving back to her original seat. He slowly quieted, sadness the only emotion left over. Geralt raised his head to meet Ciri’s eyes, sympathy with hidden fear in her eyes. A tear slowly spilled over before she started crying in earnest as Geralt stood and moved towards her, pulling her head against his stomach as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Her own arms came up to cling to him, fingers fisting into the fabric of his shirt. 

After several minutes she slowly pulled back, using one hand to wipe at her eyes. “I don't want her to die, Papa.”

“I know, Ness, I know.” He left a hand on her back, the other curling against the back of her neck as they remained still, leaning into each other for support. Eventually they separated, Geralt sending his daughter a grateful look as he spotted the chair she had set on your other side for him.

“I brought you a bucket of water and a cloth, I thought she might like to be clean when she wakes up.” Geralt noticed the careful use of ‘when she wakes up’, Ciri not wanting to lose another important figure in her life. He nodded slowly, reaching down to grasp a cloth from the water before wringing it out. He carefully took your wrist, wiping the blood and dirt from your skin before moving further up your arm while Ciri did the same on your other side. The duo worked in silence, making sure that the skin that wasn’t covered by bandages was wiped clean. 

Pulling a larger basin out, Geralt helped his daughter pour water through your hair, rinsing the grime from the strands before braiding it into a simple crown to keep it out of your face. She replaced the cloth on your forehead, trying to fight your fever to keep you alive through the night. You had calmed slightly during their ministrations, seeming to breathe a little easier now that you were clean. Geralt was determined to stay with you, he was going to take Yennefer’s words to heart. No matter what happened during the night, he would be there for you. Even if you died, he would hold you as you went, keep you calm and reassure that everything would be okay.

The hours passed slowly, Geralt and Ciri jumping every time you cried out or moved. Cloths were rinsed and replaced, washing you again to keep you cool. Halfway through the night, you took a turn for the worse. Your breathing became laboured, gasps punctuating every inhale as you struggled for air. As your lips turned blue, the Witcher made his decision, having Ciri help him carefully move you. He sat on the floor, placing you between his legs as he put your back against his chest, keeping you in a half-reclined position to let you breathe easier. You recovered slightly, colour coming back into your cheeks as your breaths evened out.

This close to you, Geralt began to get flickers of emotions. Although it still slipped from his fingers, the thread connecting the two of you wrapped loosely around his lower legs. He pushed comfort towards it, trying to fill you with love and reassurance that he was there, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.  _ I won’t let anyone hurt you again, my little fox. You are safe with me now. _

You seemed to settle now that you were resting against him, the rapid flicker of your thoughts and emotions slowing as you relaxed into his presence. As he watched, your chest began to rise and fall regularly, breaths deepening. Your skin darkened, the deathly grey sheen that had covered you for days finally lessening. Your lips returned to their normal colour as your pulse increased, heart beating more regularly. As he heard and saw this, Geralt relaxed, finally starting to believe that you weren’t going to leave him just yet. 

He vowed to treat you better, to listen to you, to cherish having you in his life. You were the one thing he was missing, and now that he had found you, his heart felt whole again. A healer had checked on you in the middle of the night, and seeing your improvement, decided to try giving you another potion. To everyone’s relief, you had kept it down, only growing stronger now that you were able to take medication. Jaskier and Yennefer had come by in the early morning, happy to see that you were on the mend; and that Geralt had finally come to his senses and was sitting with you.

Close to the middle of the day, you had started to shift, your eyes fluttering slightly before you would relax back against him again. Ciri had tried to coax you awake, wiping your face with a cool cloth in an effort to bring you around. It had taken an hour before you were finally able to open your eyes, gaze flickering around the room in confusion before settling on the girl in front of you. She had melted at the sight of your Y/E/C eyes resting on you, tears flooding over in relief.

**~*~*~*~**

You opened your eyes to see Ciri kneeling in front of you, concern clear on her face as she searched your own.

“You’re awake, thank the gods,” she whispered, hand grasping yours when you had tried to lift it only to have your arm drop in exhaustion. “You’re going to be okay now, the curse is broken and the healers worked on your abdomen, so you’re going to be just fine.”

You had blinked at her in confusion before her words registered, leaning forwards to scrabble at your shirt, lifting the fabric to see the angry red scar that marred your skin. You gasped, tears coming to your eyes as you looked at where the near fatal wound should have been. Lifting your gaze to hers, you managed a watery smile. “Ciri…”

Finding strength deep inside of you, you pulled the younger girl into an embrace, holding her tightly as her thin frame shook, finally able to release the rush of emotions that she had been holding back throughout the night. You rocked her gently, leaning into her body as you tried to reassure her that you were okay now. She pulled back to grin at you, eyes watery. “I missed you, Mama.”

You froze at the word before adoration bloomed in your chest, pulling her back in and squeezing your daughter tightly to you. “I’ll never leave you, Ness, I promise. Anything you need, I will always be here for you.”

She clung to you in return, pressing her forehead against yours. You stayed that way for several minutes, content to bask in the newfound bond between the two of you. Eventually she pulled away from you, a soft smile on her face. Standing, she brushed her pants off as she spoke. “There’s someone else who wants to see you, so I’m going to leave you two alone.”

With that, she turned and exited the room, leaving you alone with the other person in the room; leaving you alone with Geralt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Come yell at me on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox


	20. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Geralt finally get a moment alone; desperately hoping to reconcile the distance between the two of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! This is the last chapter! Thank you so much for sticking with me the whole way through, I absolutely loved all of your comments and feedback! Check out the notes at the bottom for information on my new series!

The door closed behind your daughter, leaving you alone with the one person you had been desperate to see, yet wanted to flee from and never come back. You had been so caught up in being healed that you hadn’t checked the rest of the room, only scenting Geralt once Ciri had pointed him out. Arms came around you tentatively, pulling you back to rest against a hard chest. One arm wrapped around your waist, careful not to brush against the sensitive skin on your abdomen as the other came under one arm to rest on your opposite shoulder.

You remained stiff, not knowing what to expect from the man who had been pushing you away for so long. You felt him press his nose into the back of your neck, his breath brushing against the sensitive skin. You shivered as he pressed a kiss just above your shirt, finally allowing yourself to relax against him.  _ Just maybe? Do I dare hope? _

The arms tightened briefly before returning to just loosely hold you. You let your head fall back and to the side, tucking your forehead into Geralt’s neck. He didn’t speak, just remained motionless, holding you gently. The silence was disrupted by a knock on the door, you sitting up slightly to see an older woman slip into the room. She offered you a smile as she approached, going down to her knees next to you.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you awake. I am Tissaia, the Rectoress of Aretuza, a Sanctuary for shapeshifters. I welcome you to our home and wish you a swift recovery.” Her voice was gentle but lined with steel, hinting at a hidden strength. “I just want to do a quick check, make sure that everything is healing as it should.”

“Does anything hurt?” You shook her head slightly, not sure what to say. She laid a hand on your forehead, you jumping at the spark of familiarity. She was another shapeshifter. Tissaia offered you a small smile before closing her eyes, muttering what sounded like a spell underneath her breath. A rush of heat went through you, stealing your breath away briefly before you sucked another in. She opened her eyes, locking gazes with Geralt before returning her focus to you. “You’re healing just fine, Y/N, which is wonderful to see. You will need to take it easy for a few weeks, and I will check in with you every few days just to see how you are doing. For now though, Geralt will take you to your rooms for you to get some rest.”

You thanked her, overwhelmed at meeting another shapeshifter and at the knowledge that there was a sanctuary for your kind. She smiled kindly before standing and exiting the room, pausing at the door to send Geralt a sharp look. He sighed behind you, you could feel his chest rise and fall with the inhalation.”Do you think you can stand, little fox? I want to get you to a real bed.”

You nodded silently, not trusting yourself to speak, You felt gentle hands on your waist, guiding you to a standing position as you sagged against the wall. As Geralt stood, you tried to take a step, a cry leaving you as your legs collapsed. He lunged for you, pulling you into him as he took some of your weight. You looked up at him sheepishly, seeing a fire ignite in his golden eyes as he gazed down at you. One of his hands came up to brush a strand of hair back, fingers lingering over your cheek. You shivered at the touch, averting your gaze. “I’m going to pick you up, Y/N, you aren’t strong enough to walk yet.”

Refusing to meet his gaze you nodded, holding your tongue when he gently gathered you into his arms. You winced slightly as the new skin pulled, Geralt murmuring apologies to you. You were baffled at his change in character; this Geralt was soft and caring, nothing like the abrasive and gruff Witcher you had been dealing with the past while. You let yourself relax against him, laying your head on his chest as you closed your eyes and let yourself drift with the soft rocking. You woke as he shouldered a door open, careful not to bump you. Gently, he set you down on a bed, helping to arrange you beneath the covers. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed he stilled, eyes flicking to look up at you before returning to his fingers. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed before he looked back up, meeting your gaze. You again felt the intensity of his gaze, sensing something different from him. He seemed calmer, more at ease now than you had ever seen him. 

“Can I sit beside you? So we can talk?” You stared at him, taken completely by surprise at his question. As his gaze moved away, face falling at your lack of response, his words finally filtered into your mind as he made to stand up.

“No,” you burst out, stopping him as you patted the area next to you. “Please, come sit.”

He offered you a shy smile as he moved to the other side of the bed, toeing his boots off before he reclined against the headboard. He hesitantly reached towards you, setting his hand palm up between your bodies. Slowly, you moved your hand to his, lacing your hands together and letting him pull it towards him. He started playing with your fingers, the feeling of his skin on yours soothing you. You could tell that he had something to say so you waited, watching him as he tugged on your hands. 

Eventually he stilled, lacing your fingers together as he looked up at you. You were surprised to be able to read the emotions swimming in his eyes, normally he would hide everything from you, building walls within himself to keep you out. You sunk into yourself, searching for that string that connected you. You let it wrap itself around you once you found it, opening yourself to what it wanted to say. To your surprise, you could feel everything. You gasped, a silent rush of air leaving you as every emotion Geralt was feeling, every thought he was thinking, hit you, no longer held back by the walls he had built.

A tear ran down your face at the sadness and self-loathing you felt from him, the guilt and shame for putting you through what he considered unforgivable. You could tell he felt as if he didn’t deserve you, could tell that he thought you were going to turn him away with his tail between his legs after what he had done. You pushed those thoughts to the side, promising yourself you would address them later, that you wouldn’t let Geralt drown in those emotions. 

You kept searching, finding all of the gentle emotions he had kept hidden from you previously. He let you look, a soft expression on his face as he watched you with gentle eyes, every emotion on display. You let yourself bask in his fondness, in his adoration for you, the emotions helping to chase away the last of the darkness. Underneath it all, at the heart of his being, you found what you were looking for. It hummed when it saw you, music seeming to rise up and embrace you as you brushed against it. The tears spilled over as you recognized the emotion, a twin to your own. Relief filled you as you named it for what it was: Love.

You basked in it, letting what you didn’t know you needed wash over you. Every fear, every hurt, every negative thought you had was washed away by the ocean that was Geralt. You looked up as you felt a thumb brush over your cheek, gently wiping away the tears. Oh so softly, the man beside you leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead, sobs breaking out at the action. As you broke, Geralt pulled you into his lap, shushing you as he rocked back and forth, a hand rubbing circles into your back as he murmured little nothings into your hair. 

You cried until you couldn’t anymore, your mind and body exhausted after your terrifying ordeal. Geralt stayed with you throughout, you hadn’t gotten any indication that he was uncomfortable or that he wanted to leave; if anything, he was more attentive to your needs. He held you close, arms gentle as he kept you curled against him, ear on his chest so you could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. It helped anchor you, keep you centred in this room and not back in that stone keep, held beneath the ground.

As you quieted, you felt Geralt tap your nose, his silent ask for your attention. You smiled to yourself before lifting your face, happy that he had remembered that small action. He met your gaze, half smile on his face before it fell, expression turning serious. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was gruff and abrasive and you didn’t deserve what I put you through.”

You nodded slowly, working through his words and emotions. “I won’t say it’s okay, because it isn’t. I just want to know why.”

He swallowed harshly before glancing away. You felt a stone sink in your stomach, terrified he was going to withdraw again. You dropped your gaze to play with your fingers, anxious for his reaction. A large hand came into your vision, closing over yours to stop your fidgeting. You kept your gaze fixed on your lap, not wanting to see Geralt’s expression. “I was scared.”

Your head shot up, surprised at the admission. He was watching you, expression open and raw as he continued. “I’ve lost so many friends and it hurts; I didn’t want to have to go through that again. So I pushed you away, didn’t even try and see what was between us. I know you can never forgive me for that- no, it’s true, I don’t deserve you after what I did. But I can only hope that you’d let me try and make things better, to earn my place by your side.”

Your eyes had begun watering again at his words, heart breaking at the lack of self-forgiveness he had. You couldn’t speak, throat clogged with tears from his admission. You opened your mouth to try to speak, voice failing as you lost your words. His gaze fell, Geralt again making an attempt to move you off of his lap so he could leave at your lack of response. You panicked, not knowing what to do or what to say to reassure this man that you could forgive him if you tried, that you wanted him to try to make things better. Unable to communicate this, you did the only thing you could think of.

You kissed him.

You felt him stiffen under you as you twisted your hands into his shirt, desperate to make him understand what you couldn’t say. After a brief, terrifying moment where you thought he would reject you, he softened, arms coming up to hold you to his chest as he kissed you back. You melted as he returned the embrace, dropping all of your barriers in turn as you let Geralt see what you had been feeling. You felt him gasp into your mouth, eagerly swallowing it as you brought a hand up to cup his face. The kiss turned harsher, more desperate now that there were no barriers between the two of you. 

Eventually you had to pull away, lungs protesting the lack of air they were receiving. You didn’t let Geralt go far though, climbing back into his lap to rest against his chest, eyes drooping once more. You felt his hand come up, running his fingers through your hair. You let out a soft whimper at the feeling, nuzzling in closer as his other arm came around your waist, holding you to him. He continued stroking your hair, your body growing heavier as sleep snatched at your consciousness. You fought it, wanting to stay with your mate, only to feel a chuckle rumble through the Witcher’s chest.

“Sleep, my little fox, I will still be here when you wake up.” You could feel him pushing the feeling of sleep through your bond, trying to coax you under. You shoved weakly at his chest, grumbling in protest. He chuckled again as you enjoyed the feeling of his chest vibrating under your cheek.

“Thas’ cheatin’,” you managed to get out, finally losing the battle as he dropped a kiss onto your head before tucking you under his chin.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt smiled down at you as you finally succumbed to sleep, your body loose and pliant in his lap. He brushed your hair back, placing another gentle kiss on your forehead before he shuffled downwards, slowly moving both of your bodies so that you were laying on your side, still held in his arms. He was astounded at the emotions he had felt from you, of the acceptance and forgiveness that wove throughout your bond. He wasn’t able to fathom that you would be capable of even considering forgiving him, after what he had done to you.

It had taken him almost losing you to accept that there was something there, yet you had cared for him since the day you had met. What had he done to deserve someone like you? Surely he would break you, darken you with his blood-stained hands. He was a Witcher, not worthy of the love that you seemed to want to give him.

You shifted in your sleep, a frown coming over your face as if you could sense the dark turn Geralt’s thoughts had taken. He forced himself out of the darkness, promising that he would wait until the two of you spoke before considering anything. For now though? For now he was content to rest with you safe and healed in his arms. Geralt let his eyes fall shut, exhaustion pulling him under quickly as the world faded around him.

**~*~*~*~**

You woke to the smell of fresh bread and honey, wrinkling your nose as the scent infiltrated the room. You felt heavy, eyes unwilling to open as you lay in a cocoon of warmth, an arm wrapped around your waist to rub circles into your back. You heard a deep voice above you, tone kept low so as to avoid waking you. “Thank you for bringing that, Ciri, I know Y/N will appreciate it.”

You missed the answer, still half asleep before light footsteps faded, a door opening and closing as a familiar presence left the room. Roused by the smell of food only getting stronger, you managed to crack one eye open, met with a golden gaze in return. You had managed to turn in your sleep, clinging to the man in bed with you. Geralt’s face creased into a gentle smile, face open as he watched you. “Good morning, fox. I hope you slept well?”

Your jaw cracked as you yawned, only to snap your mouth shut as the Witcher next to you poked at your lips. You offered him a half-hearted glare, secretly pleased that he felt comfortable enough to tease you. You thought about his question, surprised that you had slept well. You hadn’t managed to get a full night’s sleep in weeks, always jolted awake by nightmares. “I did, actually. No nightmares.”

You saw something dark flash through Geralt’s eyes before he lifted the arm draped over your waist, bringing his hand up to stroke your cheek. You pretended to pout as the warmth left you before turning your face to press a kiss against his palm. The Witcher pressed a kiss against your forehead in turn as you reveled in this new type of affection. You gazed up at him, happy to finally have this man be open with you, happy that you didn’t have to chase him down anymore. He seemed to sense your feelings because he dropped his head slightly to press his lips against yours, nipping at your bottom lip to make you groan.

You were soon interrupted by your stomach growling, protesting the lack of food. You had blushed, cheeks heating as Geralt laughed, the Witcher sitting up and pulling you up with him to tuck you into his side. He reached to the side of the bed, a tray piled high with fresh bread, honey, and fruit coming into view as he twisted back. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of the food, mouth watering as your stomach grumbled for the food. You could see the smirk growing on Geralt’s face, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to eat.

He gestured grandly, handing you a piece of bread. “Go ahead, I know you’re hungry.”

You hesitated for a second, only to have your resolve broken when Geralt opened the honey pot, a fresh wave of the enticing smell wafting through the air. You fell on the food, ravenous after the days of unconsciousness and healing stole all of your energy. The Witcher ate next to you, but spent most of his time slathering honey on pieces of bread and piling them high with fruit before handing them to you. You made noises of thanks, but were far too hungry to stop and speak properly. 

Once you had managed to satiate your hunger, you leaned back, embarrassed at how hungry you had been. Geralt placed the empty tray on the floor before turning back to you, a soft look in his eyes. “How do you feel? No pain, no dizziness or anything like that?”

You shook your head in response, a warm feeling filling you at his concern. “No, I feel better than I have in weeks. I’m just tired, but sleeping helped.”

“That’s good.” Geralt reached over to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I know that’s no excuse, and I won’t ever expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know that.”

His expression pleaded with you to listen, to understand why he had done what he did. Your heart broke at his words, at the amount of self-hate you could hear and feel leaking through his words and your bond. All you wanted to do was pull him to you and hold him as tightly as you could, but you knew he needed to speak. He needed to get this off of his chest, so you just squeezed his hand in response and listened.

“I was scared, Y/N, scared of getting close enough to someone that it would hurt when they were taken away. For so long it was just me, that’s the only person I ever needed to care about. And then Yen came along, and I didn’t want to let her in, but she was the only other shapeshifter I was around. She was also a mage and could protect herself, so I let her in.” He sucked in a ragged breath, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Jaskier I just couldn’t get rid of, even before he was a shapeshifter. He dug his claws in and just hung on for dear life, and no matter what Yen and I did, he wouldn’t go away. So he became part of our pack.”

“It was just the three of us, for such a long time. And then Ciri came along, I tried so hard to keep her out of this, to not involve her in this life, but destiny had other plans. Much the same as you, I guess.” He smiled gently at you, squeezing your hand. You squeezed it in return before placing your other hand over his as you leaned your head against his shoulder in silent support.

“Ciri was such a gift; she’s smart, and sweet, and playful. Stubborn as all hell, but then all shapeshifters are. I almost lost her once, she got really hurt in one of her first patrols, and I don’t know what I would have done had she died.” He swallowed harshly, a haunted look coming over his face at the memories. “I didn’t want to have to go through that again with anyone else, and when you got hurt, I just…”

“I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to my pack, and the more it grows, the more chances there are for people to get hurt. That’s why I was so scared. Yen and Jask are fairly self sufficient, but if I lost you or Ciri, I don’t know that I would survive. I can’t have children, Witchers are sterile, so the fact that I have her is a miracle, if I believed in them. I never knew I wanted a child until I had her, she’s everything I could have ever imagined. I would do anything to protect my daughter.”

You squeezed his hand before looking up to meet his gaze. “ _ Our  _ daughter, Geralt. I understand your reasonings, and I can’t blame you for it. While I don’t agree with what you did, I can’t fault you for it. I just need you to promise to communicate with me, that’s all I ask.”

“I can do that.” You were lost in his golden gaze as he looked down at you, eyes swimming with the love that you could feel through your bond. “For you, I can do anything.”

Your breath hitched at his words, heart brimming with emotion as you reached up to cup the back of his neck, pulling his face towards you so you could press your lips against him. He tasted of fresh fruit and honey, the fragrant mixture spilling onto your tongue as he licked at your lips, swallowing your gasp as he devoured your mouth. The kiss was hungry, weeks of pent-up emotions finally spilling forward now that you both had accepted your relationship.

He pulled back slowly as you chased his mouth briefly before your oxygen-starved brain realized you needed to breathe. You grumbled your half-protest, squirming when Geralt laughed at you as his hands poked at your side. The expression quickly fell from his face at your wince, one of his hands covering your ribs. Your breath hitched at the feeling of warm skin even through the cloth, heart increasing as the fingers on his other hand came to rest at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I see?” At your silent nod he lifted the cloth slightly, expression darkening at the sight of the scars and bruises that now decorated your skin. “Y/N, I am so sorry. This is because of me.”

“No, Geralt,” you shook your head. “It was my decision to do this, not yours. It was no one’s fault but my own.”

“You didn’t know you would scar when you healed me.” His voice was no louder than a whisper, regret clear in his tone. He wouldn’t look at you, eyes fixed on the silvery lines that cut their way across your side. One of your hands came to cover the one grasping your shirt while the other cupped his cheek, encouraging him to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t, no. But I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant not losing anyone I loved. That’s what a healer does.” You tapped his nose, a smile coming to your face as the Witcher recoiled. He still looked sceptical but his expression no longer looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, so you took that as a win. Pulling his hand from your shirt, you laced your fingers together, a giggle escaping your mouth as he captured your other one and pressed a kiss to your palm.

“I guess,” Geralt spoke slowly, seeming to examine each word before he said it. “But only as a last resort, I don’t think I could survive losing you.”

Your heart swelled at that, a silent admission of love beneath his words. Releasing your hands, he pulled you against his side as you looped your arms around his waist. There was a brief knock on the door, drawing your attention away from your mate as you caught a familiar scent. You smiled, perking up as the Witcher next to you called, “Come in!”

The door slowly cracked to reveal Ciri’s anxious face which quickly broke into a grin at seeing you upright and smiling. She was quick to bounce onto the bed, landing on her knees in front of you as Jaskier and Yennefer filed in behind her. She looked at you, slight hesitation in her eyes before you opened your arms to her, asking “Aren’t you going to give your Mama a hug?”

She squealed and launched herself towards you, a puff of air knocked out of your lungs as you caught her. You wrapped one hand around her back as the other wound into her hair, holding the girl against you as she circled your waist with her arms. You pressed a kiss against her head as you felt a wet spot grow on your shoulder. You held Ciri tightly, rocking back and forth as you quieted her, hand rubbing circles into her back.

She pulled back to look at you, a huge smile on her face as she whispered, “Does this mean you’re staying?”

You let out a tearful laugh, pulling her back against you as you murmured, “Of course, my dear girl. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I was so worried, Mama.” The young girl hiccupped against you, your heart breaking at the pain in her voice.

“I know, Ciri, I know. And I’m so sorry for making you worry.” You pressed a kiss against her forehead as you thumbed her tears away. “I won’t leave you, never again.”

As her tears dried, she flopped sideways, keeping her top half in your lap as she threw her legs over Geralt’s, content now that she had both of you together. You grinned at Jaskier when you saw the tears in his eyes as he came forward to grip your hand.

“I knew it,” he whispered before you dragged him down for a hug. The two of you clung to each other, thankful that everything was okay.   
  
“Thank you,” you swallowed your tears back before continuing. “Thank you for everything you did. It’s because of you that I’m alive.” 

“It’s what any pack would do, and you’re part of ours.” He smiled down at you, the tears finally spilling over both of your faces at the admission.

“Is she, Geralt?” Yennefer’s voice cut through the room. Her tone wasn’t angry, but there was a rigidity to her voice that indicated there was only one acceptable answer. As the Witcher grinned up at her she softened, harsh lines fading away into fondness.

“Yes, Yen, you were right.” Geralt didn’t sound upset, couldn’t be now that he had you as his mate. Jaskier crowed next to you, delighted that his friend had finally come to his senses.

“This will be such an amazing love song, I can’t wait to write it!” The bard was all but dancing, ecstatic at his new project.

“Oh no, another song from the overgrown weasel, how are we to survive the shrieking?” Yennefer rolled her eyes at Geralt, but her voice was fond, the teasing tone evident to everyone in the room. Jaskier flailed his hands in the air before placing them over his heart, an over dramatic look of pain on his face.

“Feathers, how could you insult me so? You of all people, as a fellow songbird should know- Oh, wait, but you can’t sing. That’s right, all of the musical talent- Ah!” The bard shrieked as Yennefer shifted into raven form, wings flapping at his face as he ducked and tried to evade her before eventually joining her in his animal form. The two shapeshifters rolled across the floor, another shriek coming from both of them when a mostly grown lion pounced, trapping the two beneath her paws.

You clutched at your belly as you bent nearly double, laughter consuming your body. Geralt chuckled next to you, delighted that his pack was finally safe and whole, everyone he needed at his side. You looked up at him, affection clear in your eyes. Dropping a chaste kiss against your lips, he pulled back to cup your cheek as he stared at you. Your face was soft, happy, cheeks flaming under his gaze. But you didn’t look away, there was no fear or insult or sadness in your posture. You were happy to be with him.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, pulling tightly against him. You giggled into his mouth, fingers coming up to tangle in his silver hair.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, the emotion clear on your face as you nestled into his chest, the two of you watching as your family played in your new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and feel free to come yell at me over on tumblr @whitewolfandthefox
> 
> My new series has just been posted! It is called The Black Blade and is centered around an OFC that I am developing. The premise is based on female Witchers, and I've got 30+ chapters planned, so I would love it if you popped over to check it out! Hope to see you all there!

**Author's Note:**

> This is also being posted to my tumblr, @stretchkingblog97. Come yell or cry with me about this! There will be several more chapters, they will be coming out as I write them!


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